Have you ever stayed in a hotel that had a phone in the bathroom?
Usually located right next to the toilet? Have you ever wondered why on
earth anybody would want a phone there? I remember the first time I saw
such a phone set up I thought to myself, Why? I certainly don't want to
phone anybody when I'm in the bathroom and, I don't want anybody
calling me from there, either. There is no way I could even concentrate
on what they were saying, instead of the images flashing through my
brain.
Well,
people, I'm here to tell you that whoever came up with the idea was a
genius. Someone with obvious forethought and consideration for his or
her fellow man (or in my case woman).
Roger and I were eating
dinner at one of our very favorite places the other day, the Flying
Fish restaurant at Firewheel shopping mecca in Garland. The restaurants
at Firewheel all share one building feature that boggles the mind. Each
one has only one restroom for men and one for women. I don't mean
"restroom" in the larger sense of the word - one big room with several
stalls and/or facilities. Nope, I mean ONE room with ONE facility for
EACH gender. Makes you wonder where the building code inspector was
when those plans were approved, doesn't it?
During my latest
trip to the facility, I discovered that the door latch, which had
worked so well going into the locked position, had decided it was NOT
going to cooperate and move into the unlocked position. I was solidly
locked in, all alone and by myself, with no one to share my dilemma and
mounting hysteria.
I tugged on the bolt, I banged on the bolt, I
tried to heave the door up, back, sideways and forward and nothing was
going to give. What was worse, I'd left my purse at the table and
didn't have anything I could use as a tool. I'm sure there is some way
toilet paper can be used as a pry bar, but, since I never took a single
physics class I wasn't likely to come up with that know-how any time
soon.
I'd like to say I remained calm with the certain knowledge
that Roger would miss me and come to my rescue. But the truth is, Roger
was sitting in a booth with one of his all-time favorite meals and adult
beverages in front of him. Roger was a happy boy, Roger definitely WAS
NOT thinking about me.
Nope, I was gonna have to get myself out
of this one and do you know what I needed? A PHONE! A phone in the
bathroom would have been a perfect solution to this problem. Oh,
there's no guarantee Roger would have actually STOPPED eating to answer
his phone and come to my rescue. But I could at least have called Zeke,
Flying Fish's General Manager, to come let me out.
They say
everything happens for a reason, and I'd like to think I've learned my
lesson from this. Now I know there is a perfectly good reason to have a
phone in a bathroom (although I'm still not sure why it has to be right
next to the toilet).
Oh, and I'll never use public "facilities"
again without taking along my cell phone. I've got just the spot for it
in my new toolbox.
