Pieces of this unfortunate attitude seem to have persisted through the years. I'm no longer afraid of strangers acknowledging me. In fact, I'll even respond with a "Hi!" of my own. Occasionally, I'll greet the stranger first! My six year-old self would be mortified. Despite this new courage, I still fail to see certain aspects of my surroundings.
A few months ago, Joslynn decided we needed something for our house. Wal-Mart seemed the obvious place to find it cheaply. Like many husbands, I find it tedious to walk around any store looking for decorations. Often I will excuse myself and spend a few minutes admiring the gigantic and sometimes ridiculously-priced TVs Wal-Mart has displayed. But when I remind myself that we're looking for the cheapest stepping-stool we can find, I quickly lose interest in those TVs. This particular trip, I had a real reason to pry myself away from decorative pillows and lampshades. I had to use the bathroom.
If you're like me, you don't like using public restrooms. The idea that hundreds of people use them everyday creeps me out. And not enough of them wash their hands. As I walked towards the front of the store, I debated within myself how badly I needed to go. Averting my eyes from strange faces, this debate continued with me until I reached the doors. I see a young, married woman standing in front of one bathroom with a twin-sized stroller. Naturally, I made an assumption and entered the other bathroom. Luckily, it was empty when I walked in.
Immediately, I realized something was wrong. It looked like any other public restroom, but something made me uneasy. Where are the urinals? I could feel my face begin to burn as I backed out of the restroom, not entirely restored from my confusion. I hoped beyond hope no one would see me exit, but as I reached the open air of the store, a young couple stopped and stared. No doubt my face had the color of tomato soup. I slurred together an unintelligible apology with a desperate excuse. They couldn't understand a word. The girl giggled and slipped past me as her boyfriend stood at the door with an amused smile. As I walked away (it was more of a trot, really), I glanced at the other bathroom entrance. There, as clear as day, a sign with a small white man against a blue background mocked my retreating steps.
I found Joslynn as fast as I could and related the story to her. She tried for sympathy with a "You poor thing," but a smile was hiding behind her words. Her laugh was not jeering or mocking but playful, and it brought to my attention the humor of the situation I had just left.
Fast forward a few months to just last week. A new school year, lots of new people, very exciting. In the building where I go to most of my classes. There is only one bathroom each for men and women. Apparently, though I didn't know it yet, the school switched the bathrooms while making improvements on the building. I, being oblivious to this fact, walked up the stairs and instinctively turned to the right side of the hallway, where the men's bathroom used to be. The improvements to this building make it look much newer and cleaner in there. There was much to see. I did not see the sign above the door that read "WOMEN'S." I reach my hand for the door handle and it opens from the other side. I look up at the face exiting the room and see one of my professors from last semester meeting my gaze. "Oh! I...what?....did they change the bathrooms?" She nods in the affirmative and gives a small chuckle at my shocked look. I can almost taste the tomato soup. Immediately, my head goes down and I scamper like a little school boy to the men's bathroom.
I like to blame my childhood self for this oblivious nature. For instilling in me the habit of walking with my head down and eyes averted. If he had only been braver, I might not miss the signs I clearly would have appreciated.
