Lutropublicaphobia

Or, in words we would actually use, "fear of public restrooms."

I am seriously one of the unluckiest people alive when it comes to weird people in bathrooms!

When I was 7, my family went camping and we stopped for a bathroom break in a middle-of-nowhere town in Nevada. When I say middle-of-nowhere, I'm not referring to a place like Winnemucca or Battle Mountain which have gas stations and fast food resturants. No, when I say middle-of-nowhere, I mean the only place with a public bathroom was the local bar, and the town was so far away from real civilization that there was a "play area" in the bar where people could bring their kids! From the bar itself, this little play area was about 5 feet and was just a corner with toys in it! When I think "white trash" the people I met in this bar come to mind.
My dad, of course, stopped at the bar on the way to the bathroom for a beer, my mom stayed in the truck, and I proceeded to go to the ladies room. Well, here's where my lutropublicaphobia begins. The bathroom door didn't close all the way nor did it have a door handle. Now, I REALLY had to go, and I knew it was between this place and the side of the highway for me, so I made a quick decision that I would pee as quickly as I could and run as fast as my twiggy little legs could carry me! Everything was going according to plan until I realized what REALLY needing to go means. As I'm sitting on this toilet I'm terrified of touching, willing by bladder to empty itself faster, this loud, obnoxious drunk lady comes strolling toward the bathroom, (remember, the door doesn't close, so I can see this happening) THROWS the door open, and loudly asks, "Hey kid? Are you using the toilet?" Thankfully I was already on the toilet, otherwise I can almost guarentee I would have wet myself in sheer humiliation.

Now, I was taught that the polite thing to do in this instance is look away and quickly, but politely, exit the bathroom. Apparently, normal human curteousy didn't exist in this town, since instead of leaving and waiting her turn, she stares at me!

 "Kid, are you peeing?" Apparently she thought I didn't hear her the first time, since she said this much slower than before and MUCH louder! Now, nearly in tears, I nod my head, and she yells to the rest of the bar, "Hey! No one go in here! Some kid's peeing!" Then to me, "Don't worry, I'll make sure no one comes in."

Um...YOU ALREADY CAME IN YOU PSYCHO!

At some point I must have pulled my pants back up since the next thing I remember is BOLTING out of the bar and back into the truck. I was too embarassed to even tell my parents what happened, so they attributed my bad mood to being hungry or tired.


Alright, that was probably one of the most embarassing moments of my childhood, and I would NOT use a public bathroom unless it was an emergency for YEARS. In High School, I conquered this fear a bit by using the bathroom during class when I knew the bathroom was less likely to be used, however if someone else was in there before me, I would either decide to hold it or find a completely different bathroom! I know, this sounds crazy! About a week after we got married, Daniel discovered this fear, to my complete horror. (Although, looking back, it wasn't too hard to figure that one out...) Then pregnancy made me face this fear so often (Thanks, Anya. Using my bladdar as a punching bag did serve a good purpose) that now, if I have to go, I'll be the first to ask where the bathroom is.

Well, since we moved into our new house, the universe seems to have remembered my bathroom issues, and now weird things keep happening when I use public bathrooms.

Anya and I went to Smith's early one morning after taking Daniel to work, and I had to go. I got the baby, went into the bathroom with the intent of using the handicapped stall, and there's some Smith's employee in the women's room, with the stall door WIDE open, who apparently thought the men's urinals weren't good enough for him. Unlike the crazy lady at the bar in the middle of no where, I quickly left the bathroom and went home. Like I said, I had to go!

Then today, Anya and I walked to a grocery store closer to our house, and apparently I need to learn better bladder control since I had to go while we were there! The kicker for this one is I forgot to put on my glasses, and the lighting at this store isn't very good. So I find the bathrooms, but can't tell which one is for men and which is for women! I picked the one that looked like the little person was wearing a dress, go inside, and before I even get to the stalls, hear what CANNOT be a woman using the bathroom. I looked under the questionable stall, and see men's boots facing the wrong direction for this person to be a woman. I'm thinking, "Crap! Wrong room!" and Anya and I bust out as quickly as possible. I look at the sign more closely, and, sure enough, it has to be the WOMEN'S room! I checked the other sign as well, and there was no indication of a "Wo" before the "Mens." Yep, some weirdo decided HE was too good for men's urinals and decided to use the women's room here too.

Alright, I get that I'm unlucky, but men who use the women's room, STOP IT! IT'S GROSS AND IT MAY GET YOU MACED BY SOME UNLUCKY LADY WITH A SOCIAL BABY! PLEASE, please, don't let my bad luck rub off on you and use the appropriate bathrooms assigned to us based on our basic human anatomy. Thank you.

Now that the universe has rediscovered its sick pleasure in mocking me, I'll likely be posting more stories about my lack of luck.