Sliding Doors

I wanted a simple, home cooked, typical Spanish lunch. DJ wanted Asian. I never hunger for Asian food. That day, we were in a open mall so the options were limited:

• Burger King (gross)
• McDonalds (no)
• 365 (chain bakery)
• Starbucks (never)
• Tapas 24 (microwaved, overpriced small plates)
• La Tagliatella (pretend Italian)
• Pai Mei (Chinese for the win)

Pai Mei was the only restaurant with a “menu del dia” offering a 3 course set meal – beverage included- for 12 euros. It fit the budget and he craved soy sauce. Fine. Sigh. Beer was part of it, so I obliged. It was an ordinary restaurant. Nothing that struck a fancy.

The interior was smaller and more crowded than I had anticipated. It was a long, narrow space with little tables and tiny chairs. I worried that my large rear end may envelope the stool, like maybe there was not enough support for such mass. We were escorted to the very middle section of this lengthy line. Each table was separated with just enough room for the toothpick server. My upper arm would have barely squeezed through that space. I nearly thought to strike up a conversation with the business woman beside us to see if she would like to try my gyozas and I could taste her soup. Thankfully, she had in ear buds and seemed to be engrossed in some program on her phone. The service was indifferent and delivered at lightening speed for Spain. It was evident that this restaurant catered to professionals with little time for lunch and leisure, a strange concept for us to witness. Fast and uncomfortable, we were finished and ready to leave in less than 30 minutes.

I needed to use the lavatory after the meal. It happened that the services were located just behind me. Because the restaurant was so thin, I entered the hand washing vestibule via a sliding barn door. Beyond the sink entry, there were 2 stalls at weird geometric angles. Both portals were also accessed by sliding doors. One stall door to the left was open. I walked through the threshold, turned around, slid the door close, and locked it.

I assessed the water closet because I have a “thing” about bathrooms. No toilet seat, but it appeared there may be toilet paper. I moved around to dropped my pants and assumed the ski position. I had 2 beers in less than half an hour. I was anxious about the toilet and my ability to remain stable but the beer had moved fast through my system. I decided  to examine the obscure paper holder to my right for inventory while making a liquid deposit. Shit the bed. There was no paper so I looked around again for another source. And, then I observed an even worse scenario.

The sliding door to my stall did not actually lock. In fact, it was weighted so that when it was not secure, it would roll back into an open position. The catch bolt was pushed out like a curling, pointing finger, attached to nothing but air. But beyond my exposed stall passage, the exterior sliding door to the wash room was also agape. There, just a meter away, was half of the restaurant. If I could see twenty people taking in a fast lunch, then those same twenty people could also view me hovering over a toilet. And I was in mid stream, mortified.

Unfortunately, I made eye contact with a dining guest. There was nothing I could do but finish as best as I could. I was not able to “shake” to help drip dry. I just had to stand up and take the excess. It was better to be nimble and quick.

With a flushed face, I noted to double check my locks in the future, and never again eat the Chinese food I did not want in the first place. At least I did not walk out with toilet paper on my shoe.