Red Misses the Memo

Hello folks, it’s nice to have you back on the porch here at All Things Southern. Have a seat, and let’s chat… ~smile~

Today I’ll be attempting a lady-like discussion that will require me to proceed delicately. First a question: Who among us hasn’t been caught in a situation where a public restroom was needed in the worst kind of way? Exactly—- it happens to us all. My Southern Mama taught me a lady prepares for these occasions by carrying matches in her purse to show her consideration for others. Consideration for others will be the moral of our chat.

I once found myself traveling with my BFF Rhonda, (known to her closest friends as Red), to another city when I was struck by this very type of urgency. By the time we located a facility, my lack of matches had taken a backseat to my growing stress. I entered the public restroom in haste, noting two stalls. The first one was out of order. The door to the second one was closed, but I couldn’t see any feet under the door. I knocked and waited, uncomfortably. No answer. I tried the handle while shifting my weight from foot to foot. It seemed to be locked. I wondered if a kid had left it locked as a prank. I knocked again. No answer. Being unable to shake the feeling of approaching doom, and feeling sure no one was in there, I tried the lock once more as I actually considered climbing under the door in search of relief.

That’s when I heard a desperate, unintelligible lady’s voice from within. It went something like, “Eeeeooouu” which I translated as, “I have problems of my own. Please don’t open the door and please do not crawl under it, either.”

Dashing back outside, as I approached the car, I signaled clearly to my friend that I was still in a bad way, and we must find another facility, quickly. Red’s caring response— if I’m lying I’m dying here-— was to lock the doors. Apparently, she missed the consideration memo entirely. For the record, I survived the experience. Red thinks she has, too, but as they say, revenge is a dish best served cold…

Hugs,
Shellie