A lesser known room

I never use this room for the purpose which now requires my immediate attenion. Ask any one who knows me. There in lies the problem, who really knows me?

Sounds of discomfort and despair echo off the tiled walls and reverberate throughout the room. The very air hangs heavy with an odorous scent brewed in the very pits of hell themselves. The provider of this noxious ambience will need to see a doctor and soon.

Since I am the said instigator of the intrusive problem that is currently permeating the air, I quickly add 'make Dr. appointment' into my phone calendar.

Since my life changing event of wandering down that lesser know path in the park, seventeen days, six hours and thirty-one minutes ago, my life has experienced things I never thought would occur to me.

Realizing I might have stereotypical behavior, I vowed to change and start experiencing new things. Beginning with adding strawberries to my oatmeal instead of the usual blueberries. Since then, my world has spiraled out of control. Morphing into a psychedelic existence compared to that of a flower child in the sixties. I was experimenting with everything I normally shied from. I now try it all, eating food with my fingers, drinking those fancy fermented....Kumbayas. Plus, I recently acquired a pair of skinny jeans, which is just part of the problem that resulted in me being stuck in this lesser-known room.

Certain bodily functions of mine are strictly guided by a set schedule so that I never have need to visit a public restroom. Yet here I am. Okay, it is my workplace washroom, without the graffiti, instead the walls are adorned with abstract murals and there is a tiny ledge for a personal device inside the stall.

How did I find my self in this predicament you ask?

Instead of the tried-and-true sandwich platter, someone suggested we order curry for our luncheon meeting, and by someone, I mean Judey. The new me spoke up and said, 'Great idea'.

Why? I never tried the stuff before.

In truth I was completely surprised by the exotic flavors that burst with every bite. I should have stopped at seconds, another interesting trait I have recently acquired, continuing to indulge after consuming the correct caloric intake.

About halfway through the meeting, a gurgling sound began to rumble within my abdominal cavity. My tummy hurt. Thus, began the dance of the digestive system, a devastating stomach two step, followed with an intestinal tango, given way to the inevitable foxtrots. I clenched as hard as I could, but a silent squeaker snuck out. Now, no one could truly tell where this post digestive curry fragrance came from. Except Judey, because she was right beside me listening to the gastral battle. I take no responsibility as it was her choice to sit next to me.

I struggled to focus.

Whether it was our brilliant minds clicking together and solving the dilemma or the new non approved air freshener permeating the space, the boss called an early end to the meeting. Either way I didn't care. I began to duck walk as quickly as possible to the nearest restroom.

When I perform this act, which we all do, my pants need to be completely off. I cannot say why, perhaps I need the freedom. Not the easiest of tasks to do in a confined space under pressure wearing skinny jeans. I managed and quickly hung them on the little hook attached to the inside of the door with not a moment to spare. I mean none!

There are three more important items to mention before I continue my tale.

First, we are now a gender-neutral office in all aspects.

Two, due to the type of work we do, our business hosts an open house the last Friday of every month, for our local schools. Guess what today is?

Drained and exhausted, I complete the paperwork on the business end of this transaction and proceed to dispose of the incriminating evidence. When suddenly the room fills with screams and laughter of preteens pouring in for their break before leaving the tour.

Comments of a disgusting and horrendous odor dominate their conversations. Wishing to remain anonymous I decide to hide as best I can.

Slipping into my shoes, and sitting down once more, I brace my hands on either wall of the stall, and slowly raise my legs off the floor.

Which brings me to...

Number three, the unlocked door.

Pressing my feet ever so gently upon either side in front of me, it was at this point it occurs to me that I may not have locked the door. The reason I assume this, is the damn thing starts opening outward. To my embarrassment and horror, a group of gangly youths watch in silence as this seemingly vacant space now reveals a sight that no person should have to witness.

Coming face to face. They spy a thirty-some year-old gentlemen with legs raised high and wide, sporting a pair of Rockport's and mickey mouse socks. Arms airplaning outward, I gave the appearance of a rodeo cowboy riding a bucking porcelain pony.

Giddy up.

Like a deer caught in headlights, all chatter ceases as we have this vacant stare down. Me, framed in place like some Norman 'LSD' Rockwell painting. Their mouths open, every eye locks onto me. My only saving grace is that I am wearing a dress shirt and tie.

As innocent eyes freeze in place, locking this memory in the 'I wish I could forget category' a phone begins to ring. Not a soul moves as 'who let the dogs out.' echoes within our shared space. I'm not crazy about this new ring tone I chose.

I hear a preteen voice crackle. "You gonna answer that?"

Feeling obligated to comply with the request, I lower my feet and swipe the phone. "Hello?"

Everyone leans in to listen as I continue. "Ah, no I don't think.... oh, I see."

Believe it or not, I think this call piques their interest even more than a semi naked man in a stall.

Swallowing, I continue. "That is interesting...however this is not a convenient time for me to take a survey but thank you for asking." Pulling my phone from my ear, I glance to my skinny jeans hanging out of reach.

One young girl follows my gaze and thankfully recognizes my need. Not moving her feet, she slowly reaches for them, Her fingers grip the denim fabric and with a quick flip, they come free. I give her my best smile of gratitude, and she gives me one back. Only, hers is mischievous. Before I can utter a word the little ruffian takes off with my pants, followed by the entire flock of little bastards. Helpless, I listen as their laughter floats away like the fumes of this shitty day.

I am once again alone, at least I have my phone, but who do I call. Certainly not Judey.

As I peruse my contact list it occurs to me, it is quite empty. No names of co-workers. Only my parents, siblings, my looney aunt, and of course, the emergency contact for my Doctor.

It dawns on me that I have lived a life of solitude and order, veering away from the carefree galivanting lifestyle that my parents maintain. I have isolated myself completely from others, never joining my peers for after work drinks. I avoid all office, house, political and tea parties. I have never signed up on a dating site. Well, except for ‘Plenty o fish’ but that was a misunderstanding. FYI, I went without my Tuesday stuffed trout dinner.

I am struck with an epiphany, once I get out of this quandary I vow to become friendlier and more open. I’ll say ‘yes’ to all invites. Perhaps join the office baseball team, not as a player. There is no way I am going to touch the handle of a grimy germ-infested bat. I want to make friends not die from some unknown disease.

Suddenly a soft voice calls out. “Thomas?” It was Judey.

My voice trembles a bit as I reply. “Yes.”

High heels click gently across the tile floor then stop. From above, my skinny jeans sail over the from the next cubicle.

“I saw those little shits running down the hall with these.”

I mumble my thanks as her footsteps fade away. Then I hear her angelic voice once more. “Thomas, would you like to join us tomorrow for a team building event. There is a spot open?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

“Text me your address.”

With embarrassment I had to explain I did not have her number. She responded, saying she had mine. While I was pondering why does Judey have my number, my phone pings, I reply with my address.

“Great, I’ll pick you up at seven a.m.”

“Ok.”

I was feeling comfortable with my decision until I heard her say. “Thomas, you’ll love skydiving.”

Now, I am not going to explain how this story popped into my head. I shall just mention we cannot always choose when inspiration comes to us.

You can read this as a stand-alone, but if you wish to find out how it all began, I attached the first story.

Thank you,

Jason