My Quiet Place

I have this place where I like to go when I want to get away.  It's a place where I can go and just think about life.  Sometimes when I'm there I bring along a favorite book and just spend some time reading and enjoying the quietness of the moment.  That's right...I'm talking about the bathroom.  Oh, you may know it as The Loo, The Crapper, The John, El Bano, or The Porcelain Castle.  Sometimes it is simply the place where I'm taking the Browns to the Superbowl.  But no matter what you call it; it should be the one place on earth where a person should be able to "Go" without any interruptions.

I have to admit that I hate to be the victim of a random 'Walk In'.  Actually, my first memory of an inconvenient invasion was not random at all.  I was about 9 or 10 years old just sitting there reading a comic book or something and the door opens up and my dad tells me to smile and then he takes a picture of me perched on the throne.  Oh, it was all laughs after the film got developed and he could use the photo as leverage anytime any of my friends came to visit.  I quickly learned the following week that turn about is not fair play when I took a picture of King George in the Oval Office with the royal trousers around his ankles.  The camera was quickly confiscated and I was sent to Shawshank.  Go figure.

Over the years, I'm pretty sure that each of my kids has made the mistake of opening the door while I was taking care of some paperwork.  Each was greeted with the standard Bill Kirby question, "What the hell is wrong with you?" as they stood there immobilized from the sight and sound of man who they once thought was their father but now looked and sounded like a madman.

I have to admit that outside of my one attempt to payback my father I have not walked in on anyone while they were "dropping the kids off at the pool."  But there was this one time at a drive-in, my Sweetie and I were watching this movie and it started to rain and it was at that precise moment that the multiple beverages I had consumed had reached their destination and I decided that I had to "Hit the Head". 

Making a mad dash to the bathroom, I put my hood over my head and boldly charged through the rain.  I bounded through the doors and entered a stall where I experienced the sweet relief my bladder was seeking.  As I exited the wooden stall I was greeted by the sight of 8 or 9 women all in various stages of 'fixing themselves'.  In my haste I failed to notice the word "Women" on the door.  Pulling my hood back over my head, I ran back out into the night and proceeded to hide from the mob that was surely searching for me.  I guess all's well that end's well.  So the lesson in all of this is to 'go with flow' and knock before you enter.

Be Well.

Bill