I was sitting in the passenger seat when it hit. I knew I had about 90 seconds to get to a bathroom. “Pull into Black Angus!” I screamed at my (I’m sure) startled wife.

She yanked the wheel toward the steak house parking lot and I skip-hopped my way inside. The hostess stood in the entryway. “Bathroom!” I yelled. I’m sure she was pleased as all get-up to point the sudden raging fat man in the right direction.

The next part was a blur. I burst through the bathroom door, into a stall, and just… (sorry there’s no nice way to put this) unloaded. Think of the scene in Dumb and Dumber when Harry gets a visit from the ex-lax fairy. That was me.

I was just ecstatic that I made it.

When the carnage was over, I sat back for a bit to make sure I was actually done and okay to leave.

That’s when she came in.

A woman.

A damned woman. Into the men’s bathroom!

“Jessica, are you in here?” Oh geez, I thought. She thinks she’s in the women’s room.

Before I could yell out, “occupied!” another woman’s voice emerged from the stall next to mine. “Yep, out in a minute.”

Oh geez, I thought. Is there really another woman in the… And that’s when it hit me. Oh.

I looked over and at that point finally noticed the silver high heel shoes beneath the bathroom stall divider. I then looked down at my own size 14 Sketchers. And I did the only thing I could do. I lifted my feet high enough into the air that they couldn’t be seen by anyone else, hoping she hadn’t seen them yet. Yeah, right. At the very least, I guarantee there were man grunts amidst the mayhem that she couldn’t have missed.

Sigh. Friends… I was trapped in that women’s bathroom, shaking from holding my legs up so long, for more than 30 minutes.

I was determined to find a window of opportunity in which I could make a run for it, unseen. My poor wife was sitting in the car with no clue what was taking me so long. Woman after woman entered before the restroom cleared completely out. Some of them lingered for ages, gabbing, applying their makeup, and God knows what. At three different points my stall door jiggled as someone checked to see if it was available. My heart leapt through my throat at least a dozen times throughout. And all the while I kept my giant obviously-belonging-to-a-man shoes high and out of sight.

My strength was long gone by the time the coast was clear.

For just a brief moment the bathroom emptied, I buttoned my pants, and I made a RUN for it. No hand washing for me. Not this time.

I got to the door of the bathroom and swung it open just as another woman reached to push it from the other side. We made startled eye contact for the briefest of moments before I burst past her, sprinted past the hostess, and swan dove into the still-idling car.

“What happened?” my wife asked as I hunched out of view.

“Go!” I screamed. “Just go!”

My wife stepped on the gas, and we tore out of the parking lot. We were back on our merry way and I could now tell her the whole story, or at least as much of it as I could between her uncontrollable laughter.

And I have to say…

I really don’t care what other humans do.

That’s just when I learned that for me personally, the lady’s room was not something I wanted more of in my life.

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing

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Dan Pearce is an American born writer, photographer, and artist. His books include "The All-Important, Well-Fed, Giant White Man" and "The Real Dad Rules." He is best known for his blog (and supporting Facebook page) "Single Dad Laughing," with 2 million followers as of 2018.