The Rest? Room

Amid the recent news regarding Senator Larry Craig of Idaho and his restroom adventures at the Minneapolis Airport I thought I might share with you all some of a truck drivers adventures with rest rooms. I promise not to get gross.

You know how when you go into your favorite grocery store and the milk is right where it always is and the meat is right there where you left it last time? And even if you happen to visit that same type store in another city you can count on the milk and the meat being in the same place...usually.

And lets say you are a shopper of the Wally World and you need the rest room. It's always right there in the front of the store near the optical center and the cash registers.

Well, truck stops are the same way. If you go into a Pilot or a Flying J you can usually count on the coffee, sodas, or the rest rooms being in the same place. Usually.

I know. You can probably see where this is going.

In the beautiful town of Terre Haute, IN is a Pilot truck truck stop. Just far enough west of Indianapolis for that soda to being making it's way out of one's system. And so since I was in need of fuel on this particular day anyway, I figured a quick swing into Pilot, empty one tank and fill another.

Inside, back wall, in a rush, Men on the left and Women on the right. In a rush. Wow! This men's room has a big bright mirror with bright lights all around it. Guess it's a new type of shaving area. Except there are no sinks there. Can't stop. Must go. Where are the urinals? Can't find them. No time to think. Get in the stall. Lift the lid. Unzip...Ahhhhh. Much better.

Flush. Wash hands. Dry hands. Leisurely walk out. Pass woman entering the door I just left. Why is she going in the Men's room. Turn around. Oh...I see.

Guess I'll fuel at the next stop.

In Terre Haute, IN be aware. The men's room is on the right and the women's is on the left. Take my word for it. Not like every other Pilot I've been in, but that's ok. Life goes on. But it sure was a pretty Women's room. Ya'll got it nice. And yes, I did put the lid back down.

Next:
Ohio rest area. South bound on I-71. No particular hurry. Just need to stop and "see a man about a dog". So I'm sitting there playing Yahtzee on my phone taking care of business and the stall door next to me opens and closes. I hear the usual noises associated with this type of rest room activity.

And then I here "Hi, how ya doing?"

Now I usually don't carry on conversations with people in the next stall, and if you're wondering why just ask a senator from Idaho. But I don't want to be rude so I answer. "I'm fine. How are you?"

"Doing good, What are you up to today?"

I figured that it was probably fairly obvious what I was up to at that very moment so I assumed that he meant what was I doing for the day overall.

"Just heading to Cincinnati and then on to St Louis."

And then...

"Let me call you back. I'm in the rest area and the guy in the next stall keeps talking to me."

People really shouldn't use cell phones in the rest room.

Really.

And lastly...

It was several months later that I began to remind myself that highway rest areas have become known hang outs for men seeking homosexual activities and so I decided to be a little more aware of the fact.

I-96 heading west at Howell, MI, rest area. I've seen guys hanging around there as if they are looking for something or someone but I go about my business and ignore them.

Again, in the reading room, Scrabble this time on the phone, trying to figure out what to do with the Q and the X and I notice the "signal" next door. the foot is tapping away.

I ignore it. It keeps tapping. I keep ignoring. Tap. Ignore. Tap. Ignore. Taptap. Ignoreignore.

The foot stops tapping. Guess he got the signal. I'm not interested.

Then comes a knock on the wall and I quiet, "Hey, can you help me out?" accompanied by a hand under the wall.

"Look," I say. "If you want to participate in that sort of activity that's your business. But all I'm trying to do over here is use this little stall for what it was made for and try to figure out where to put Q and X, preferably in a double word spot. So will you just leave me alone?"

Nothing.

And then...

"Uhm...I'm out of paper over here....that's all."

oh

"Uh...sorry...ok...well...you know...here's some...here's a lot...sorry...i just thought...you know...what was the foot tapping all about?"

Sheepish. "Mp3 player."

oh.

"Ok."

When you're in the rest room, either turn it down or don't tap your foot.

Really.