Public Restrooms and Bad Ju Ju - Why Me?

After a while a pattern repeats itself enough times that one must be forced to take an assessment and ask the question of why me. And so it was with the following public restroom events. It might be a hex, but I call it bad ju ju, (pronounced joo joo) for lack of a better word.

The first time I should have realized that something was afoot was during my teen years. Being from a conservative community, it was a place where the expected was always expected.

A favorite place to go was a shopping center not too far from home. Sneaking into a restaurant named Kelly's to use the restroom was a routine for many, since this particular mall didn't grace the shoppers with abundant facilities.

Usually, I'd buy an iced tea at Kelly's just to be nice.

Anyway, on one particular day when I made a stop, I couldn't help but notice how the person in the stall next to me had such big feet. Maybe it was the bejeweled and gaudy style of shoe that attracted my attention in the first place.

I queried about this to myself and thought that perhaps it was because of the pointed toes that they looked so big.

Winding up business, I stood up at about the same time the person in the adjacent stall began to shuffle in the big shoes. I'm ready to open the door when the stranger from the next stall began humming - in a baritone pitch!

Disbelieving, I went on to the next step of washing my hands, but the stranger with women's shoes and big body to match, and obvious long haired wig, got there first. Still humming in that masculine bass tone, he/she glanced casually around at me, as my own hair felt like it was standing on end.

He/she casually strutted on out the door, leaving me there, frozen in shock, with goose bumps popping up everywhere.

More bad ju ju. . .

Skipping past the incident of when a mean gang of girls cornered and intimidated me in the middle school restroom, oh, and the time I got stuck in a new Macdonald's restroom because the entry door lock was faulty, more progressive times led to unisex public restrooms.

During college, the ten story library there originally had alternate floors for the male and female lavatories.

The library being almost a home away from home, I comfortably pushed in the door with my shoulder, and noticed this weird little sexless icon since it was about eye level as I brushed through.

It was early in the morning and there weren't many people around, so I didn't worry about it.

Wouldn't you know I'm seated on the commode, when I hear the entry door opening? I kept my fingers crossed that it wasn't a man, because I just wouldn't be able to handle it.

Sure enough, I could see, from the view under the door, boots are stepping past and striding with a masculine gate.

I drew my feet in, hoping I wouldn't be noticed, and then I would quickly escape before an embarrassing encounter would happen.

Just as I lifted my jeans, a tube of lipstick fell out of the pocket and rolled across the floor into his stall, of course. He politely picked it up and handed it back to me under the partition.

The "why me" question remains to this day. Until a suitable answer comes up, I'll just have to think of it as nothing more than "Bad Public Restroom Ju Ju."