Sunday, July 12, 2015

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom Outsmarts The Overactive Bladder Crowd

I simply must tell you my most scathingly brilliant idea! It's safe now. No need to withhold it from the general public.

Yesterday, The Pony and I attended the All Write Now conference in Lower Hillmomba. Farmer H drove us, and dropped us off at the door. We chose to use the ground level entrance. Not that some entrances are floating, and can only be accessed by hang glider. No. We (make that I) wanted in on the lowest level. I had researched that building on the college campus where my sister the ex-mayor's wife matriculated. There were no steps at that door, and the bathrooms were a quick left once inside, just across from the elevator.

Yes. Elevator. I can read a building schematic. The conference, you see, was on the 4th floor. Entrances were on the 1st and 3rd floors. I saw no need to hike up a set of steps out front (with no handrail, I might add, which makes me wonder how the ADA lets them remain open), and then launch an expedition to the elevator's location from that side of the building. This was a writing contest, not a triathlon.

So...Farmer H dropped us off. We went inside, immediately saw the elevator, and knew where we were headed. I...um...made use of the facilities. It was a 2-hour drive! We hopped in the elevator just ahead of a young man with a backpack who asked if we were going to the conference. I pushed 3rd floor. Because, you see, we were told by last-minute email not to arrived before 8:00, and that people would be at both entrances to tell us what to do.

The Pony harrumpfed. "The conference is on the FOURTH floor!"

"That's right. I though we were supposed to go where the greeters are. But we'll go straight up."

Let the record show that there were zero greeters on the 1st floor. Just a sign with an arrow that said All Write Now. It directed us to the area with the elevator, the restrooms, and a drink machine. So...we went straight to the 4th floor, where we easily found the registration table. And saw, down through the big open stairwell, with two flights of 20 steps, a sign at the bottom with All Write Now and an arrow pointing up.

But that's not my most scathingly brilliant move, dodging those Mt. Everest equivalent stairs!

As you know, writing conferences attract more women than men. Restrooms facilities do not expand depending on the number who need to use them. As with our women's faculty restroom at Newmentia, facilities are in high demand during time between instruction. I did not plan to spend my time in line when I could be getting a good seat at my next session.

As luck would have it, The Pony and I had chosen the same first session. And the same luck made this venue right next to the elevator. I put my stuff down on the table and told Pony, "I'm going to take the elevator down to the 1st floor and use that bathroom. I know there won't be a crowd. Watch my stuff." He nodded. He can hold it like a camel. I'm not sure he went all day. But he was pickin' up what I was layin' down in this madcap plan to outwit the other wee-ers.

Indeed. There was not a soul in the 1st floor women's restroom. It was like I had a George Costanza private bathroom.

I'm a genius like that.

2 comments:

Sioux Roslawski said...

And was there plenty of toilet paper? Were there squares to spare?

I have--in the past--even commandeered the men's bathroom during events. It's not fair. Men only need a hole in the floor, a tree out back, an outside wall to take care of their needs. So, when these events occur that draw scads of women, I ask a man to check to make sure the men's room is empty, I post a woman outside, and I slip in, since teachers have been trained to pee and wash their hands in 43 seconds or less. (It's part of our annual PD.)

I'm sure The Pony would have guarded the door for you. Right?

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
I had a stockpile of toilet paper like Elaine had Today Sponges! I made sure whether my business was "square-worthy" each time I visited my private facility.

It's a good thing I left The Pony behind to guard my seat. Nobody even poked a nose inside that 1st floor bathroom. Those ladies just didn't think outside the box.