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Face Saved. Hah!
Hey.
I'm sorry I haven't been around much lately. I normally write late at night and recently I've been turning in early. Not to mention, I've really been having a hard time coming up with anything that I felt that was blogworthy. Basically I've been stuck in a really boring documentary. Not much to write home about that's for sure.
Anyway, I was talking to my wife tonight about R80o. I asked her "of all the time you've known me what sticks out as the funniest thing that you can remember?" After she got through choking on the shrimp fried rice she said "TJ MAXX, you've got to go with the TJ MAXX Potty Caper!"
Let me be the first to say (as if I really need to), R80o is definitely not high-brow literature. Following suit this post is crude. Funny, but crude. Now with that in mind, if you're still reading... well, you're my kind of person!
Here goes:
TJ MAXX POTTY CAPER
It was August, a hot as hell, humid, Georgia summer afternoon. We ("we" being my wife, my daughter and myself) had just gotten out of church and decided to go shopping for my sister's birthday gift. We went to the mall shopped up and down with no luck. My wife suggested that we try out TJ MAXX. We hopped in the car and drove over to said MAXX store. We were there browsing for 30 to 45 minutes when all of a sudden I had ~a bit of a tummy ache~. I say "tummy ache" in sarcastic quotes, the "tummy ache" felt more like labor pains. Anyway I ignored the pain at first. Then another stomach cramp hit. After the cramp passed I started scoping the store for a restroom... just in case. Then another cramp, I said to Leslie, "I'll be back in a bit." and I went off to ask a store clerk where the restrooms were. The only clerk I could find was way up at the front of the store at the register. I saw her and casually made my way up to her...
ME: "Pardon me. Where are your restrooms?"
Clerk: The clerk never looked up, she waved off to her right and said "THERE." and pointed to the back, right corner of the store.
ME: "Thank you."
Then I proceed off to the back, right corner as she had directed. When I got back there there were three doors. No signs, no pointers, no icons, nothing. Just three doors.
I walk into the first door. Nope. Storeroom. Try again.
I walk into the second door. Nah-uh. Manager's office. Next door.
By this time, I'm in trouble.
Finally, the third door, it has to be relief.
I crash through the third door... it's a hallway. At the end of the hall I see the universal man and woman icons for restroom. I cautiously make my way down the hall... who am I kidding... I'm sprinting, teary-eyed, full pace down the hall with my hand over my ass 'cause I'm crowning for God's sake. The snicker's knocking on cotton! I GOTTA GO NOW!!!
I finally get to the men's restroom.
Locked.
I turn around and try the women's restroom (This is not a moment to be worried about pride).
Locked!
I DIDN'T ASK THE SALES WENCH FOR A FREAKIN' KEY!!!! I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED A KEY!!!!
Thanks to TJ MAXX's crack security team I'm about to shit myself.
I'm shouting prayers to God and all of his possible incarnations at this point. When I notice a side corridor a few feet back up the hall.
I run to the corridor. I see a back entrance to the store, complete with the alarm that'll go off if I choose to go that route and I see a closet. A broom closet to be exact. I figure I'll take the back door, buzzer and all if the broom closet is locked. But first I've got to try the closet.
I push shove tackle the closet door.
Opens up. Just as pretty as you please.
You never know true humility until you've done number 2 while perched precariously on a tall trash can in a hot broom closet of a mid-scaled retail department store in August in Georgia. My prayers to God and all of his possible incarnations were answered though, not only was the closet unlocked, but there was a whole case of toilet paper in there with me. As Martha would say... "It's a Good Thing".
After all of the drama, I tidy up and casually stroll out to my wife who is in the cookware section of the store. She turns and looks at me and her jaw drops. She studders a bit and ask me what's wrong. I'm white as a ghost, I'm drenched in sweat, my hair is a mess, my shirt's untucked, my pants are wrinkled. I tell her that "I don't feel well. I'll wait for you in the car." and then I casually stride past her without even giving her time to acknowledge my comment.
I'm relaxed in the thought that I just went through a personal disaster of biblical proportions and nobody's the wiser. Face saved.
Then she blurts out...."IS THAT MUD ON YOUR SHIRTTAIL?"
Thanks Les.
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I have just given you something I swore I would never write about. I just gave you the most embarrassing moment of my life.
On a side note: Great Sale! I read in the paper the other day that that TJ MAXX store is closing it's doors and they are having a butt-kicking going out of business sale. The "Caper" happened over eleven years ago and I could face lions, tigers and bears before I could face going back into that store.
1/6/2004 09:50:58 PM
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