It seems like a major theme of my relationship with Steph centers around the bathroom, WC, washroom, restroom, whatever you want to call it. One of our first memories as friends involved bathroom discussion.
It was December '04 and I had flown up from Georgia to look at apartments which Stephanie graciously agreed to show me. One of the first ammenities I look for in a home is a bathroom fan. I HATE, HATE, HATE if a device, I don't care what it is, is not present in the bathroom to mask the sound of... tinkling, for lack of a better word. I told Stephanie the place would simply not do because the bathroom lacked a fan. "I"ll get stage fright," I simply explained.
Where do you think the name of our blog came from? A conversation we had in the bathroom of a convenient store located across from the western entrance of Glacier National Park. Whenever I am traveling by car I need two things. Lots to drink and frequent pit stops. Stephanie, on the other hand, can go for hours. Thus, the name Iron Bladder. The genesis of Bond Girl is another story which I will share later.
The only hesitation I had about my internship at the Woodrow Wilson House were the bathrooms. Until yesterday I thought the home only had two public bathrooms. These are the ones I used. Both do not have fans and the acoustics are incredible. I wouldn't be surprised if people could hear me taking a leak at the Textile Museum next door, or Bill Clinton's house around the corner.
The bathroom on the top floor, where I work, is especially undesirable because its located directly across from a coworker's office. In addition, the toliet rests on this concrete "stage" making it more throne-like than anything I've ever sat. When I confided in Meg, the Curator, that I would be more comfortable using the WC downstairs, she laughed and said she understood. Brenden, however, loves the "throne." "I have a really great view when I'm standing," he confessed. And so he does. Facing the toliet, there is an excellent view from the window, which is located directly above the claw foot bathtub and to the right of the commode.
Men...
Yesterday as I was going downstairs to use the potty, I was disappointed to find a tour group watching the introductory film. The first floor restroom connects to, "the Dugout," the room where the house tour begins. I absolutely refuse to potty while, who knows how many people, are watching a film about our 28th president.
Dick seeing my frustration led me down the hallway to another bathroom, a bathroom I had no idea existed. This bathroom, installed for people with disabilities, had a fan. Ahhhhh! I couldn't believe it. After Dick excused himself, I stepped inside to do my business in peace.
Oh, no. Not so. I was in there maybe two seconds when someone begins pulling on the door. Although the door had a deadbolt, this person was yanking so hard I had to balance holding the door closed and peeing. I hate that!!! You always hope the person will get a clue before you have to say anything, and sometimes that mercifully happens, but not yesterday. No. I finally had to shout, above the fan, "there's somebody in here." By this time I was ready to wrap it up and left the restroom feeling a little cheated.
I can't understand why, but this has been occuring a lot lately. Laurie, my former coworker, used to yell at me while I was in the ladies room when someone needed to see me. What made matters worse is this person would be standing outside the door when I exited. She would also, knock on the bathroom door, after I had entered, only to run away. I used to ask myself, "why?" "Why can't I just get some peace while I'm on the toliet?" Not too much to ask, right? And then I remembered...
As kids, my brother and I lived to annoy my mom. We loved embarrassing her in public, while she was driving, in front of her friends, while she was on the phone, etc. But looking back, I think one of the worst things we did was barge in on her while she was using the bathroom. I swear the woman never had peace while on the pot. Nor while she was in the bath or shower.
In our home, the bathroom was a public environment. Until my brother hit puberty, it was not unusual for us to walk in while the other was bathing or using the toliet. Needless to say, things have changed for my brother but remain the same between my mom and I.
Is it any wonder the woman is crazy? No doubt some of her mental instability stems from a lack of potty privacy.
They say what goes around come around. Since I don't have children to torment me perhaps fate is using other people. Mercifully I live alone because who knows what would happen if I didn't have an outlet. Yet, is this what I have to look forward to? Kids constantly barging in, a husband who leaves the door open while doing his business. Who knows? And perhaps it won't be sooo bad. After all, some of my fondest memories center around el bano.