So there I was....10:15 p.m., day 2 of the "BIG CONVENTION." I've just gone over the event orders for the next day and signed the banquet checks from this one. Convention staff have closed up shop for the night and I am so weary I think I will die.
I can't make it to my hotel room and have to make a brief stop in the restroom located on the ballroom/meeting room floor. I duck into a stall and in my exhaustion and delirium unwire the two-way radio from the waistband of my slacks, detangle the wire that runs up my back and unhook the headset from my ear...carefully placing it on the ground so it doesn't fall off my pants when I remove them, unhook my cell phone from the waist band for the same reason...make sure I don't lose the pens, chapstick, room keys, etc., in my pants pocket...and sit myself down on seat. From about two stalls over I suddenly hear grunting.
Now...first of all, if you've ever been in a women's restroom in a public place...grunting is not something you will hear. EVER! I'm thinking to myself...WTF???? That sounds like a man!!Suddenly...with complete clarity I recall the line of urinals I passed on my way to the stall. OH. MY. GOD.
At a frantic pace and bent over position so as not to jiggle the radio lying on the floor, I manage to get my pants back up and and radio and cell phone back in my hands and I am running past the afore-mentioned line of urinals with lightening speed. I fly out of the restroom and there are the remaining convention staff hanging around outside waiting for the fireworks. Apparently I was observed entering the offending restroom, word was spread, and seats improvised to more clearly witness my abject humiliation. We all had a great laugh, though...and then a martini.
Amazing how an icy cold shot of Grey Goose, straight up, entirely dry, with a twist, will change one's overall disposition.
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