It has been quite a few years since I have been to the mall, and I believe that it’s safe to go back since the statute of limitations has run out. For a while there, my photo was on the wall as a wanted fugitive in the mall cop’s office. Well, the only photographic evidence is of a man looking like Daddy Warbucks running through the crowd.
It was a fine Saturday morning and my wife and I were driving home from Seattle. Before starting the trip we had a hearty breakfast and drank large quantities of coffee. As luck would have it, the food and drink hit at the same time some two hours later as we were driving through Bellingham.
“I’m not going to make it home. We’re going to have to pull off at the mall,” I said. Ordinarily I can out last my wife and since she started asking me to pull over 30 miles back, I thought it only gentlemanly of me to oblige.
The mall was packed for a Saturday and the only parking was on the outskirts of the lot, which made for a long and rapid run to the nearest entrance. My memory harkened back to the Hertz rental car commercial of OJ Simpson running through an airport terminal, hopping over dogs and little old ladies. Once inside we resorted to what looked like a blocking play in football. I was impressed by how well Cheryl was able to clear a path.
Restroom signs. Why do some businesses try to be creative or funny with the labelling of a restroom door? Why in Mexico do they say “Hombres and Senores”? I don’t have time to pull out Google Translate. What the world needs are universal signs that say, “Men and Women.”
And so, with a door on the left and a door on the right, I quickly glanced at a cute sign on the wall which seemed like the Men’s room and ran inside. Cheryl, on the other hand, assuming I had made the correct choice, swung open the opposite door and headed to the nearest open stall.
I have had recurring nightmares since that day, for as I ran into the multi-stall bathroom the first thing I noticed was a baby stroller pulled up close to a stall with an open door. Odd I thought. I don’t think I have ever seen a guy take a baby stroller into a restroom before. I also thought it odd that there were no urinals. I stopped and stared into the stall of the guy with the baby. As our eyes locked on to each other, I completely lost all interest in using the bathroom as she hissed, “You’re in the wrong bathroom!” What do you say or do? The manly thing…. flat out run.
Meanwhile, Cheryl noticed that the feet of the women sitting behind the stall doors had ugly shoes and for some reason a taller woman seemed to be using a urinal.
“Are we coed now?” he asked.
My trademark black Ranger’s cap, which I wear everywhere, now became a source of identification, so I yanked it from my head and stuffed it in my shirt. Hence, on the mall video I gave the appearance of a fleeing Daddy Warbucks. Cheryl, her wild blond hair streaming in the breeze appeared to look like Orphan Annie, now chasing Daddy Warbucks. I made a mental note to tell her that she cleared the man in the wheelchair by at least four inches which would have made any hurdler proud.
Once again in the parking lot, Cheryl said she could hear a distant siren but really it was me from the combination of fear and a full bladder. Luckily there was a McDonald’s across the street.
I don’t care what anybody says, your sins will find you out and payback will happen. Four years ago, at a beach resort in Dominican Republic I stood in my swimsuit using the urinal when the men’s room door opened and I heard something on rollers come in. Before I could turn around, a mop head was slapping at my feet and the floor around me. I turned to complain and stared right into the face of a pretty, young, cleaning woman.
“Not again!”
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