In the Spring of 91 I was on the school board attending a high school drama performance at the Win Granlund Performing Arts Center in Port Orchard. During intermission I became engaged in conversation – lots of people wanted my ear in those days – so lights were blinking and I had yet to make it to the men’s room.
As I entered I thought it a bit strange that the urinal was one big round basin face off with a running spray, but thought nothing of it as I headed for the center booth. As I was seated there gathering my thoughts I heard the approach of a highly pitched trio of voices. As they entered I realized I had accidentally entered the women’s zone. Sitting there as a truly captive audience I debated whether to raise my large feet to hide my presence or to keep them planted so no one would knock at the door. It was agonizing as I visualized newspaper headlines that would surely result from my discovery.
Fortunately the women were only focused on the mirror and soon left. I was able to sneak out right after and suffered no consequences other than a firmly placed resolution to c a r e f u l l y read all restroom signs in the future.
John Alfred Riebli