Wrong Way Ron

This week, in a nutshell...craaaaaazy Shelley and I had a wonderful time at the Jays game (as you can tell I DEFINITELY had a good time...woohoo)...ahem...where was I?? Oh yeah. Shell almost caught a foul ball, it came whizzing by our table but was tackled by a very zealous Yankee fan. Shell was happy to finally see her baseball boyfriend Derek Jeter, and she almost stormed the field when he got hit by a pitch...she probably would have tried to give him mouth to mouth- "He's not unconscious ma'am, he got hit on the wrist" Anyway, she drowned her sorrows in a sack of Twizzlers. I could tell the way she chomped them she was rethinking her choice to marry me when she could have a shotrstop for the Yankees. Twizzlers replacing whiskey as a drug of choice to drown out the inner screams. Oh well, I might not have his looks or his money...but then again I don't have his looks or his money. I console myself with the realization that he probably couldn't make her laugh the way I do. I mean he's too coordinated to fall down the stairs, or trip and fall over the dog. (that's always gets a big laugh). At least I haven't found her, yet, sitting up in the middle of the night watching sports highlights from the YES network and slowly replaying him stealing second to see his butt...though I'm fairly certain she DID mention his butt at one point that night, but I've blocked it out...trauma says I. But that little trauma was NOTHING to compare with the single worst moment of my life which happened Wednesday evening. I made it to class early and I really had to use the restroom. I wasn't sure where it was, but I saw the signs pointing to the bathrooms and I ducked inside. Now the idea that there were no urinals did not immediately light in my head (and for those who are mentally reading ahead you know where this is going but bear with me). I opened one of the stall doors and stood there and did my thing, and I noticed a box mounted on the wall that read "For Sanitary Napkins". This would be the point where one would hope that "the clue" had tapped me on the shoulder and said "Hi"..but still it wasn't fully formed. It was there in the back of my brain but got crowded out by thoughts like "ah this is an old building" and "maybe this is one of those that serves both" except those usually have locks on the door. Such is the logic that did not as yet slap me square in the head. As I started to open the door though and saw in a flash a woman standing at the sink it hit me. Oh dear God I'm in the Women's Bathroom. Panic. What do I do? Walking out now will just frighten the poor woman and screams of "Masher" will flood the Physics building. (Yes, 'masher' because my brain works like its the 1930s...it comes from watching too many "Thin Man" movies). I decided to wait her out as it were. So I stand in the door to the stall and think about how I'll have to rush out and yet be calm at the same time. The rule being if you are somewhere you aren't supposed to be, pretend like you're supposed to be (it's an old backstage at a concert concept that has served me well). As I'm waiting though a second woman enters and tries the stall door where I'm hiding, terrified. It's then that I realized because I was thinking about making a 'bolt' for the door, the more pressing 'bolt'- the one to the stall door shielding me from embarrassment and perhaps a stain on my police record- is anything but 'bolted'. She pushes. I...push back. She shoves. I'm built line an offensive lineman honey..you ain't goin' nowhere. She finally tries the next stall. Now is my chance. No one in the sink area. Coast is clear...ish. I hurry to the door, which is an inner door, then to the outer door. As I'm just about to breathe a sigh of relief for a clean getaway, and thankfully no arrest warrants, I open the door and am greeted by, basically, MY ENTIRE CLASS waiting in the hallway for the preceding class to let out. But here's where I become...smooooooth. Without even looking up, really, or making ANY eye contact, I hustle around the corner as if there was nothing wrong at all, please move along, you did not see what you just saw...Freedom...Horrible Horrible Freedom. Winded, red-faced, and feeling sick to my stomach there was as yet one pressing problem...I needed to wash my hands! And I still didn't know, obviously, where the correct gender bathroom was. Luckily for me this building is built with hallways going all over the place, so actually when I just continue to make left had turns I'll wind up back in front of the room I'm supposed to go in. As I turn down the backstretch of this obstacle course I notice ahead of me the Men's Room. The only problem is...it's right there in THE hallway where the people I'm trying to avoid are still waiting (hey I was off by only 1 door...I should get points for that). I decide that the only thing to do is wait until they go into class, then slip into the Men's Room, wash up, and then hope that when I walk into class I'm not the subject of boos, catcalls, and hysterics. So I wait. and wait. and wait. I read all the science experiments in the glass cases...apparently a couple of dudes are trying to determine the physcial properties of something and prove that something does something else...I don't know...I don't read science geek. It had pictures though. Well as you can probably tell, I managed to escape my plight and as yet have not had to register as a sex offender or anything. I made it though class and no one seemed to cast any raised eyebrows my way (at least that I saw...but then again I was staring at the ground the whole lecture). One thing is for certain- I know where the men's room is on the first floor of the Physics building...bet Derek Jeter doesn't.