FIELD OF SCREAMS

Or if you leave him alone long enough, something will happen.

The State meeting for mentally and physically challenged advocates was about to get started, as people were slowly entering the big meeting room after a big breakfast. The schedule called for at least 3 to 4 hours of statistics, speeches, reports and questions from and for the body of people assembled.

Yours truly, after 2 or 3 cups of coffee at breakfast decided that now might be the best time to use the facilities so as not to interrupt the flow of information that would soon be streaming from the dais and podium of lawyers and administrators.

I excused myself from the long table, filled with legal pads and reports from the meeting and head to the “Men’s” room. Heading out into the hotel corridors, past wandering representatives to the meeting, waiters, and staff personnel, I see a sign in the distance “Restrooms”, and set my sights to arrive in a timely fashion, do my business and hurry back before I’m even missed.

Arriving under the sign I see a door that says “Men”, with a slot for an electronic key. I look for my key and realize I left it in my jacket in the car, and try to decide what to do. My dance steps are a combination of what I learned from the Fox Trot and an old Indian war whoop as a gentleman from the organization goes by and says what’s up? I tell him “I’m trying to get in and I forgot my room key.” I also relate the fact that I hear a toilet flushing and I’ll wait until he comes out and I’ll slip in. The gentleman goes into a side door and it occurs to me: “He just went into the Men’s room!” I was trying to get into the janitor’s closet!

Entering the Men’s room, I see the gentleman and say “Please don’t mention this to anyone.” He starts to laugh his fool head off and I out of embarrassment go into one of the stalls, my head hung low and my self-esteem going down the crapper.

People, if you ever see me in public alone, please take me by the hand and call me wife.

joedelbroccolo@yahoo.com