The Case of the Bathroom Banger Bandit

I don't usually blog about trips to the bathroom (I normally just save that for twitter), but something happened today that has tested my patience and my sanity (as you'll see later). If you easily get grossed out by me talking about sitting on the toilet or "doing my business" you might just skip this post and wait around for Haikuesday tomorrow where I'll probably post about flowers or something.

Okay, excellent. Since all the weak of heart people just left, I'll get into the nitty gritty of it.

There are 2 things you need to know about me:

1. My Job Sucks. I'm pretty much stressed out ALL the time, because as soon as I walk into my office and I'm mauled by attacking files that all need to be done RIGHT NOW I want to just walk right back out the door.

2. I hate Loud Noises. I wear earplugs to concerts, and I will put my fingers in my ears at movies sometimes. What I hate most though is unexpected loud noises. Even dropping the shampoo bottle in the shower can freak me out royally. And by "freaked out" I mean I have the sudden urge to a) punch something or b) cry. Or sometimes punch something, then cry because my hand hurts.

So back to the story. Because of item #1, when I take a restroom break, I use that time not only as a time to "do my business," but also as time to "de-stress." I can "sit," take some deep breaths and remember how to relax again. And aside from the weird lady who comes in and starts whispering to herself, or the people that choose to throw away their leftover Indian Food in the bathroom garbage, this method generally works out pretty well.

Well today, I was sitting in my favorite stall, "doing my business" and thinking calm thoughts, when I heard

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG.

on the door. (It was not the B-52's.) Somebody was POUNDING on the door. Straight up pounding. Then a male voice piped up "Anybody in there?"

Okay, remember Item #2? Before I could help myself, I started to shake and I croaked out "I.....I'm in here. Excuse me."

I was totally about to do the crying freak out. I could already feel the tears welling up when I heard him say,

"Eh, we'll just come back later."

Later??? My brain was racing and suddenly I felt under pressure to finish immediately. So much for my peaceful 5 minutes of bathroom time. As I tried to calm myself down, another woman came in and did a speed-pee. (A speed-pee is when you actually wonder if her butt made it to the pot before pee started spilling out.) She had come in, out, washed her hands and left by the time I was standing up to flush. Then

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG

"I'M STILL IN HERE!!!!!!" I yelled.

The whole Anger part of the freak out was upon me now. I flushed, slammed the stall door and washed my hands in a really angry fashion (This is possible, you just have to splatter water all over and look mean while you do it), just thinking of what I was going to say to the person who had been so rudely interrupting me. I stormed out of the bathroom, but the hallway was empty.

Now I feel like I've missed my opportunity to teach this guy a lesson. It would have been great to tell this guy about manners and about how banging was not polite. After brooding about this for the last hour, I've come up with a plan.

The Plan:

I will innocently go to the bathroom, not bothering to look down the hallway to see if the Bathroom Banger Bandit is hidden behind the water fountain. Of course, I'll already have been spying out my office window, so I'll know he's there. Then, I'll wait in my favorite stall for the familiar pounding to start again. At this point, I'll remain quiet instead of identifying myself. Puzzled, the Banger Bandit will take a step or two inside the bathroom, and that's when I'll strike!! I'll jump screaming from the toilet seat, tampons in both hands. Before he knows what's happening, I'll stick the tampons up his nose and put a maxi-pad over his mouth to keep him from yelling. Then when his howls of pain and humiliation are muffled, I will tie him up with toiletpaper and protective seat covers. I'll leave him like that, tied up in the handicapped stall (nobody ever uses it) so he won't be found for days and as he sits on the cold floor, tears streaming down his face and tampons still sticking up his nose, he'll realize that he should NEVER pound on the ladies bathroom door. Never. Ever. Again.

Vengeance can be so sweet.

-Over and Out-