Last night, Gus and I went to the bar. It’s the official unofficial Bloomberg hangout, so we knew a bunch of people there. We sat down and consumed.
A couple of hours later, my consumption led to a need to relieve myself. I saw a girl sitting outside the one-stall bathroom, so I redirected my attention to Gus’s pool game, since waiting in a line like that just makes you have to go more. Five minutes later, I noticed the girl still waiting, and about 10 minutes later, I saw her give up and go back to her table.
Since I was now the only person in line, and had waited a considerable amount of time, I knocked on the door with the side of my fist. One might say I “pounded” on the door and I would concede. When you’re in a loud, crowded bar such as that one, nobody’s gonna do a damn thing about your dainty little knock.
But apparently, my loud, assertive knock wasn’t working either because several more minutes passed and the door had still not opened. I watched a guy from my group and two other guys enter and exit the men’s room in rapid succession. I knocked again in the same manner.
Several more minutes passed and a young woman about my age stood in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” she said unapologetically. “Is there a problem?”
Clearly there was. “This isn’t the kind of place to take your mad long shit,” I replied and started to move past her. I had been waiting a long time, and did not care to discuss it further. Apparently she did and began to say something defiantly.
You know that phrase, “Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out”? I sort of demonstrated to everyone what it looks like when you don’t pay heed to it.
I shut the door and that bitch flew. I wish I could have been on the other side of the door for just a moment to see what that looked like.
Generally, if you spend that much time in the bathroom, you don’t really care to discuss it once you’re finished. Most people I know would probably just mutter an apology (if anything) and flee the incident as quickly as possible. If she had said, “Sorry, I felt sick” or “Minor emergency” or something to that effect, I wouldn’t have been such an asshole. But don’t spend 20 minutes in a one-stall bathroom that must accomodate the entire female population of the bar, primping and preening just so you can look “sexy” enough to go make out with some nerd by the dartboard.
I was bigger and stronger than her, as I am compared to most women, so I don’t see where she saw the good in getting into an argument with me in a bar. She didn’t know me and certainly had no business giving me attitude. Almost all men understand that you don’t mess with someone bigger than you, why can’t women figure it out?
I pondered this as I took a long, satisfying piss. Then I washed my hands, exited the restroom, and returned to my group in less than three minutes.
I immediately saw her talking to one of the men in my group. I found this humorous because I know one of two things happened:
1) She saw that he was part of my group and started bitching to him about me, thinking that somehow she could get my people to turn on me in her defense. Ha!
2) He saw what happened and wanted to talk to her about it, making her wish she had taken off when she had the chance.
Either way, I saw it and laughed, but kept my distance (our people were taking up the whole back room, so this was easy). I wanted no part in further shenanigans, and I was glad that her visit was brief.
Incidentally, the girl who was originally waiting for the restroom returned, and we agreed that chicks like Miss Bathroom-Hog shouldn’t be allowed out of their cages.