T to the J to the MAXX Caper

TJ MAXX POTTY CAPER

It was August, a hot as hell, humid, Georgia summer afternoon. We ("we" being my wife, Leslie, my daughter, and I) 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~. In sarcastic quotes, I say "tummy ache"; 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 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, " then pointed to the back, right corner of the store.

ME: "Thank you."

Then, as she had directed, I proceeded off to the back, right corner. When I got back there, there were three doors. There were no signs, pointers, icons, or anything else —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 male and female icons for the 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.

At this point, I'm shouting prayers to God and all of his possible incarnations 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 an It's a Good Thing".

After all of the drama, I tidy up and casually stroll out to my wife in the store's cookware section. She turns and looks at me, and her jaw drops. She stutters a bit and asks 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, "I don't feel well. I'll wait for you in the car." 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 shared with you something I swore I would never write about—the most embarrassing moment of my life.