‘Sorry, dude. I don’t speak hieroglyphics’

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Boots Edit 600x800I have an issue with truck stops that prop the bathroom doors open and leave them that way. It makes me uncomfortable to know there’s only one small stall door between me and the entire building when I’m in an extremely vulnerable position. It’s nice to hear the outside door open before you see feet.

Also, when the doors are propped open, you can’t see the little picture of the stick person in a dress before you walk in. I’m very careful to read the signs — I’ve walked into a men’s room in a truck stop before, and I can most assuredly tell you what you see cannot be unseen. The visions have caused holes in my brain where I’m certain Alzheimer’s disease will set in, because it’s God’s way of making me forget the horror.

I had been in the bathroom for a few minutes, doing what normal people do in the bathroom, reading my emails and Facebook on my phone. I finished up, got all my things in order and opened the stall door. To my great dismay, there was a very tall man in a turban standing at the sink, washing his hands. It was clear from the look on his face that he was just as horrified as I was. We stood and stared at each other. It was a Mexican standoff, until he started yelling at me in a foreign language, which pissed me off royally. (Side note: I’m a firm believer in learning the language before you go to yelling at people.)

I squared up, because I knew I was in the right place. I pointed to the picture of the stick figure in a dress on the door, which was propped open so it was only plainly visible from the inside of the bathroom.

“Sorry, dude. I don’t speak hieroglyphics, but you’re the one in the wrong place, not me.”

He looked where I was pointing and realized his error. I could tell he was really embarrassed, and I almost felt sorry for him, but I was still jacked up from the adrenaline of being mad about him yelling at me. He bowed and kept repeating some string of jibberish while he backed out of the bathroom. To his credit, it still sounded like he was yelling, so the guy might have just been a loud talker, but the whole situation was so tense, I couldn’t give him credit for it at the time. I noticed he didn’t turn his back on me, so I’m pretty sure he got the message that I was fully prepared to kick his kneecaps up around his ears with my new cowboy boots. The guy disappeared before I got it together enough to actually leave the bathroom. I almost had to go back in the stall and clean my drawers out, but thankfully I was OK.

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So the lesson of the day is, learn the language and read the damn signs. And don’t ever yell at me in a foreign language, cause I’ve got a shiny new pair of cowboy boots that will definitely send a kneecap for a loop.

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