Seriously?

Once again, I thought I was being punked, or was on Candid Camera. Seriously, why do these things happen to me?

At the end of the Indiana Homeschool Convention, I traipsed to the ladies room before packing up by booth. There was one stall door in there that didn’t match the others. It was brown, obviously a replacement, and the rest were beige. Not only did the lone door make me want to sing “One of these things is not like the other” but it was the only gateway that didn’t rest in the closed position. All the beige doors looked like they were locked, even when they were guarding a vacant stall.

For some strange reason, I chose the loner door at 6:05 on Saturday night. As I entered my chosen throne room, I surmised, “This must be the most used stall because you have to bend over and look for shoes surrounded by pant legs to see if the others are available.” That should have been a clue to me. But no. I was a tad on the tired side… tuckered out… to say the least. I had just finished speaking six times. I LOVE speaking, but it can be draining.

Well, I was right. It WAS the most used stall and guess what it was plumb out of?????  Yep. TP.

It was too late for me to re-choose a new stall by the time I figured out my dilemma. Good gravy. Surrounded by silence, I wondered if I was alone in the bathroom. Oh, dear baby Jesus, please no.

Feebly I made public my private situation, “Help!”

No response.

With a little more gusto, “HELP! Is anyone out there?”

A lone woman was with me, and probably trying to ignore the first call for assistance. Her entire response was, “Yes.” Seriously? Couldn’t she have asked what I needed? Or how she could help? But I guess she did answer my question.

Pleading, I requested that she hand me some toilet paper. “Sure.” My prayers were being answered. I heard toilet paper being removed from a receptacle in another stall. Then my guardian angel asked which stall I was in… because the only one that stays open was shut and locked in front of my nose and knees.

Sticking my hand out under the door, she placed the golden paper in my fist…. all three squares of it. Seriously? At first I thought it was funny. Personally, I have handed my daughter two squares when she asked for help in my same precarious position. BUT THEN I HANDED HER A WAD and we laughed!

My guardian angel left. Exited the lavatory. The exterior door shutting behind her was the last noise heard in the bathroom… until I started laughing. Seriously?

I folded those three precious squares very carefully.  VERY carefully.

But it was not Candid Camera. I did not get punked. It was real life in a day of Laughing with Linda. I’m thankful I can provide entertainment for others.

You’re welcome.

Roadway Glamour Shots

Confession time again.  I received a speeding ticket for driving 48 mph in a 25 zone… in my dad’s 1966 shiny red Mustang.  It’s hard NOT to speed in that car, but at least the officer was cordial.  I did the crime and I paid my time in traffic school.  The instructor surprised me with the content of the class, where about 25% of my valuable time was spent hearing about how photo radar tickets are usually bunk.  He described how they are illegally taken from private property, how a signature is required to profess guilt and how the photos usually aren’t clear enough to prove the identity of the driver.  Being a lover of safety rules, I had a hard time with this, as you can imagine…. not the photo radar, but the instructor freely sharing the information on the city’s dime.

It was late at night when I arrived home after my graduation from traffic school and Rick, my dear husband, was giving me a hard time about breaking the law.  He was opening the mail as he harassed me…. and suddenly grew silent.  He was staring at a letter so I glanced over to see a PHOTO RADAR TICKET with HIS name on it.  OK, I laughed out loud at my husband.  Not a very supportive wife, I know.

To make an hilarious story short…. we drove down to the court house to view the picture (this was back in the day before they mailed them.)  The kind man handed us the picture and at that very moment Rick was wearing the exact same navy and yellow striped shirt that he sported for the roadway glamour shot.  In the picture he also had on his Top Gun Aviator Ray Ban sunglasses….. which were hanging from the front of his navy and yellow striped shirt.  I barely held in a giggle.  “I don’t think it looks like you,” I reassured my lawbreaking husband. 

He did the crime and paid the time.  Now what are the chances of showing up in the same clothes weeks later???  It was a moment worthy of Candid Camera.

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