If you are easily offended, struggle to find humor in situations where there really isn’t anything funny, or don’t like graphic images in your head, STOP READING RIGHT NOW. Seriously. Just stop. If you can laugh at situations that are over and done with and are now a little bit funny, then proceed. If you can read a semi inappropriate thought or realization and not get offended, then proceed. If you promise not to leave some hateful comment because you got offended at my posting of a story that is now somewhat humorous, then proceed.
Written 8/25/2017 (The night of the story I am about to tell.) This is an image free post…though as you read, you will see that there was no time for photos nor was it any sort of appropriate for me to take pictures….
Sometimes things happen to me and I think “Only me. Only Freaking Me.” Tonight was no exception. What was supposed to be a standard girl’s dinner at our local ‘rita joint turned into a night of …well…only me….
It’s Friday night. JHub offered to keep QMonster so I could have a girls dinner with my friend, Katie. Off to our local margarita place that we go to EVERY SINGLE WEEK. About 2 margaritas deep, I have to pee (pretty standard here…I always have to go to the bathroom) so I headed to the bathroom. I went potty and came out to wash my hands. As I was drying my hands, I see something out of the corner of my eye on the floor in one of the stalls. You guys, it was an older lady ON THE FLOOR in the bathroom. I said “Ma’am, are you ok?” and thank goodness she replied! She said “Yes, honey, I am fine. I will get up soon.” I walked over to the stall and knelt down on the floor and asked if I could help her. At first, she resisted. After I insisted on helping her, she agreed. I tried to push open the stall door but it was locked. Alright, I’ll crawl under, I thought. WRONG. The second stall was locked but nobody was in there. She said “Oh that’s my bathroom.” You guys, she had fallen from the second stall UNDER the stall and into the first stall and somehow locked both doors on the way down. I don’t know how it happened. So, Ok…I’ll crawl under the third stall, through the second, and into her stall.
I walked into the 3rd stall, knelt down (on the nasty Mexican restaurant floor in shorts so literally my bare legs and palms are touching the nasty floor) and put my head under the stall wall to crawl under. Before I could even move, I found myself FACE TO FACE with her bare booty and lady parts. I can’t even lie. This was my first time to see another lady’s bits and I really didn’t know what to do here. She had pulled her pants down to potty and fell. I felt so bad for her. How embarrassing. Then I realized I am no tiny chick and probably won’t fit under the stall without having a panic attack due to claustrophobia so I go back to where her head is and am rubbing the lady’s hair and uttering some sort of comforting words to her under the stall door when a woman walks in and I asked her to go get help.
A few minutes later, the hostess walks in and is followed by the owner of the restaurant (a male). They both looked like deer in headlights. I tell them what happened and that I need the stall door unlocked. The hostess, she was tiny, crawled under the stall door and under the wall and got into the stall and unlocked it. I pushed the door open a bit and wiggled myself into the stall and the lady was literally laying on her side, half naked, cheek to floor, on the floor of this restaurant bathroom. Due to a tight space, we couldn’t open up the door until she stood up. About that same time, her son (also an older gentleman) walks in and said “oh that’s my mom. she is heavily medicated right now.” Literally, no expression, no nothing. Just matter of fact. I tell him that I have to get her up and he tries pushing on the door which is literally pushing into her hips. Again, I tell him that I am going to help her stand up, get her pants up, and then he can help her out.
So, I tell the hostess, who is still in this tiny a$$ stall with me, that I am going to pull the lady up and I need her to pull her jeans up. I get down and pull the ladies panties up and get my arms underneath hers and literally used every ounce of strength I didn’t know I had to pull this lady, who was dead weight at about 125lbs, up off the ground while the hostess was trying to pull her jeans up. At the same time, I realize the lady has gone to the bathroom on herself. The lady realized it about the same time I did. I am standing in a stranger’s pee, pulling her pee panties and pants up, while holding her up…all the while trying not to pass out because I am THE WEAKEST person ever and am struggling to lift someone my size. While I am pulling her up, she is holding my face by the cheeks, like old ladies do, saying “You are so sweet. Thank you for your help. You are so sweet.”
I get the lady up off the ground and the hostess got her jeans pulled up. I get backed up against the wall, with this lady literally leaning 100% on me (while rubbing my cheeks) and the hostess opens the stall door. The son says “mom, stand up.” She tries but literally can’t. So, I just sort of shoved her at him and said “Help her. She is dead weight.” About that time the owner and the hostess helped her off of me and towards the bathroom door. All the while, I am standing in the stall, dead seriously looking at the toilet trying to will myself not to sit down and pass out. I was hot. I was sweaty. I was full of adrenaline. I was scared for life at the image of this old lady’s booty and hoo-haa in my face. I was tired. I was tipsy. I was embarrassed for the women. I was scared. I was sad that her son was so ugly about the sad situation. I was desperately trying not to pass out from the 15 minute exercise I just did that I am SO NOT USED TO. I was a weird mix of emotions but, most of all, I was just trying desperately not to pass out.
I get back to my table, where Katie was waiting, and am literally exhausted & trying to catch my breath. I tell her what happened. We both just kinda sit there shocked thinking “Only Me. Only Freaking Me.” before paying our checks and calling it a night.
I tell this story, not really to be funny, because really it was sad and embarrassing for the lady. However, the lady is safe and okay ( I did see her walk out of the restaurant with her son and got into a vehicle. No ambulance or ER visit was needed, from what I saw.) so I think it is okay to find a little humor in the story…like picture me…wearing some cute little shorts, a standard tank, little sandals, and my cute long sheer Lularoe Shirley kimono, on my hands and knees in the bathroom at a Mexican restaurant staring face to freaking face with a half naked lady. Funny….now…not at the time. That, my friends, is what a typical Girls Night dinner is like with me…unexpected, odd, off the wall, random….and is probably why I only have one friend who consistently asks me to go to dinner with them. (Thanks, Katie…I’m glad the Hot Messiness of my life hasn’t scared you off!)
I will say I didn’t realize hair loss around your lady parts was a symptom (or blessing) of old age. So, even at 30, the saying “You learn something new everyday” rings true…even if that means learning something new while on your hands and knees in a Mexican restaurant bathroom. Only me. Only Freaking Me.