Ooops! Did We Just Poop on Your Floor?

They say that sometimes when bad things happen, time slows down or your life flashes before your eyes.  What happened to me is that all sound ceased.  It was as if I existed in a perfectly silent bubble.

We had walked into the restaurant, with Coach and a former student who was visiting us and we were being shown to a table right in the middle of the dining room.  A table right in the middle of the dining room is usually never a good thing and why I didn't stop the girl right there and say, "This won't work, we need a booth." I don't know.  But I let her show us to the table.

She walked off and Allison walked over to her chair.  I pulled out my chair and Fred was about to pull out his chair when all of a sudden he said those word you never want to hear inside of a building, "Coach pooped."

And all the sound went away.  I turned and grabbed what was nearest: a cloth napkin.

I know! A cloth napkin! What was I thinking?  I had a big bag in my purse filled with shamwows and towels and ziploc bags and antibacterial wipes, but I was thinking THERE ARE PEOPLE EATING FOOD IN HERE AND I CAN'T LET THEM SMELL POO!

So I swoop down on the three sticks of poo and in my no sound world, the white napkin drifts down over the poo mountain like a little cloud.  There.  All. Gone.  I scoop it up and race away to the rest room.

I am shaking all over.  I zoom into a stall and start to empty the poo into the toilet.  Am I nuts?  What then? Am I going to rinse it out in the toilet?  Am I going to stick my hands in the toilet?  Holy crap, I'm still holding this poo napkin!  I look around in a panic and spot the sanitary napkin waste dispenser.  I shove the poo napkin in there.

I power walk back to the table.  Sound has returned.  Allison looks at me and says, "There's a little more poo under Fred's chair."

Crap on toast.  More poo?  I get out the anti-bacterial wipes and look around the room.  Everyone is eating and chatting and seemingly unaware that a mere three feet away from them there had been poo.  Thank the Gods above! I wipe and wipe and wipe the tile with anti-bacterial goodness.  I get the extra poo and wipe with more anti-bacterial goodness.  There is no poo smell, but my hands are filled with poo stained wipes.

Maybe a minute has gone by. Fred and Coach have disappeared and not returned.

By now, all the diners in our dining room must think I have a bathroom problem.  Some weird sort of intestinal disease that makes me run off several times during a meal or that I'm OCD and feel the need to fling my napkin on the floor, throw it away and then scrub the floor clean with anti-bacterial wipes before eating.  Whatever, as long as they don't realize that it was poo, I'm OK with being the crazy, nut job lady they tell their friends about over drinks at the bar later in the evening.

I race back to the restroom.  There is a woman in my stall.  MY STALL.  Rather, the stall with the poo napkin in it.  I go to another stall.  I toss out my nasty wipes and madly wash my hands over and over and over.  Then I look around for towels.  They have one of those Dysen Air Blades.  Oh Man!  We would have been screwed if we didn't have our own supplies!!!

The lady in my poo napkin stall comes out.  I sneak out of my stall and then go into the poo napkin stall.  It occurred to me that the poo napkin might start to become, well, odorous.  I started having visions of people coming in and sniffing and saying, "Something has died in here!"  And then going and getting management.  And then management wandering around the bathroom trying to figure out where the horrible smell was coming from until finally, they opened the sanitary napkin container and saw: poo napkin! Then it would be just a short step to wondering, "How did this get here?  Who pooped in our napkin?" And then they would think about the only missing napkin that night.

And it would be mine.

Therefore, I had to keep the poo napkin.  Fortunately, I carry ziploc baggies with me and so I just grabbed the poo napkin and shoved it into a ziploc and then into my supply bag.  I went back to the table where Fred and Allison wanted to know what we should do.

We decided that retreat was the better part of valor.  So we left and Fred called the restaurant and explained to management what had happened and apologized.  They were more concerned that Coach was ok.

They didn't want their napkin back.