Stall Stories

I think I should really rename my blog to reflect the awkward daily encounters that are my life. I swear, I try to avoid them. I suppose people that is but obviously my tactics aren't working.

Yesterday, after studying for around 6 hours and guzzling water to keep myself awake, I head to the nearest restroom. We fondly call it the "Bottomless Pit", only because people lose things it there...a lot. And it is the most random bathroom. It's about the size of a closet with only one stall, yet enough room for a two-person line to form to wait for you to get done (really, there is a point to me detailing the horrible layout of the restroom). I really don't understand why they don' t just put a lock on the outside door and make it a single person restroom. Really, I get performance anxiety.

I walk in and take a quick glance in the mirror to see if the stall is closed so I can just got use another bathroom. Wasn't closed, in fact, wide, wide open. I walk in the two foot entrance (really, so stupid this bathroom) and now that I think about it, I heard grunting. At the time, didn't phase me. I turn the corner about to enter the stall when a hand reaches out fumbling for the stall door. I freeze.

Oh the thoughts going through my head.

Whoops.
Huh.
Wait.
omg
That hand is really low.
omg.....OMG
Really?
Who goes to the bathroom with the stall door OPEN?
On a main floor?
OMG

I just turned around and left. I fought the urge to go back and see who actually had the balls in the women's restroom.