Every once in a while, I think we as humans experience "movie moments." You know, one of those moments where you could swear you're in a scene of a movie. Or maybe even a chick lit novel. Such experience happened to me on Saturday night.
Ryan and I took a much needed quick weekend trip down to San Luis Obispo. We ate at our favorite Japanese restaurant down there on Saturday night. I'll give a disclaimer...I'm going to talk about some not-so-lady-like things in this post.
We waited for about 35 minutes (an eternity in SLO time for waiting for a table) - I checked with the front desk, and we still had 2 parties ahead of us. So, I decided to run to the bathroom (had to pee) - two single bathrooms upstairs (the only rooms upstairs) - one men's and one women's. I reached the top step and my cell phone started ringing - Ryan calling, to tell me our table was ready. I decided that hunger > needing to go potty, so I ran back down the steps and took a seat next to Ry at the sushi bar.
Fast forward past a delicious meal --> paying our bill. I could finally go to the bathroom. Bliss. Ryan decided he needed to, as well, and followed me upstairs. I tried the door handle - locked. A drunk girl on the other side said something to the effect of "Sorry! Hold on! I'm coming!" I can't really remember the correct words she used, but I'll tell you one thing. I HOPE I got it wrong. Here's why.
Wait a couple minutes, and the women's bathroom door opens (Ryan is still in line waiting for the men's). I have to PEE by now. The girl walks out of the bathroom...followed by a guy. OMFG. I think my eyes were the sizes of quarters. I'm standing in the doorway, and I'm mouthing to Ryan "what the f--- do I do?!?!" while waving my hands in the air. "What the f--- do I do Ryan?!?!" I hear the girl trip up on the second stair down, and I think the guy helps her (I can't see them around the corner). Well, crud. I close the door and look at the toilet seat. It's down. What the hell does that mean? Was she drunk and was he helping her? Or nookie? I can feel the cooties in the air.
Ok, I decided to go for it, albeit camping style. Wash my hands, get the hell out of dodge, and see Ryan still waiting for the men's bathroom. Don't know what homeboy in the men's bathroom was doing...is this booty call central? Ryan decides to give up. We get downstairs, and Ryan proceeds to tell me the conversation on the second step that I didn't hear:
Girl (loud whisper and giggle): "OH.MY.GOD. I didn't wash my hands!"
Guy: "Shh...don't worry about it. Just play it cool."
The icing on the cake? They turned in the direction of the dining room...to dine.
I'm super happy I carry hand sanitizer with me. I considered taking a scorching shower 30 minutes later. I told Ryan that if I get pregnant and have a completely white baby (not "hapa") (the guy was white) - it's from the toilet seat and I didn't cheat on him (yes, yes, I know that's not possible...)
Gross. Gross. Gross!