A friend of mine started a conversation like this one night after we inadvertently found ourselves at a lesbian bar. Lets just call it a happy accident that involved lots of alcohol and scream-singing Celine Dion. Put yourself in my shoes- go guzzle ½ a bottle of Malibu and sit in a dingy bar full of chicks making out- and imagine a friend returning to the table and making that statement. What kind of discovery could my male friend make in the bathroom of the lesbian bar? And, did I really want to know about it? Of course I did.
The bathroom of a new bar is the mecca for all that is strange and hilarious. Aside from the obvious potential for self-reflection (what else are you going to do when you’re wasted and waiting in line for what seems like an hour?), interesting sights are likely and I usually find the signage worth quoting when I return to the table.
Have you ever stopped to think about how many drunken stories involve interactions in or around the bathroom? I was once almost beat-up by what I’m positive was a body builder because I accidentally bumped into his girlfriend in line. He then proceeded to smash a glass on the floor and try to take out the bouncer before getting dragged out the back door. My point- it was the story I told everyone for the next few days when they asked about my Halloween and it happened while waiting for the bathroom.
Now, can you blame me for getting excited when I heard “So, I found out in the bathroom…” My already somewhat-reeling head (so many drinks, so little time) kicked into overdrive as all the possibilities came flooding in and I just knew that this had to be a good story.
Turns out it wasn’t as exciting as I had hoped, but was still good information- you can text a number for a cab and the nearest cab from any company will pick you up. Too bad I was too drunk/ trapped in my mind thinking about everything above to put the number in my phone.