I had nearly forgotten what an event a shower at the gym can be. The workout being routine, I entered the soggy abyss of locker room land. Immediately realizing my fatal foible of forgetting my flip flops, my mantra began, “don’t look down don’t look down”. The water, having been just a few degrees warmer would have shocked whatever funk may have taken up habitation in the nooks and crannies of the floor. “Don’t look down.” I grab the shampoo without incident. “Don’t look down.” I wasn’t so lucky with the conditioner. I somehow managed to launch the bottle under the shower curtain into no man’s land somewhere between my haven of creepy crawlies and the no way better bathroom stalls. Well what do I do now? As if in answer I heard the toilet flush. I pulled back the curtain in time to see a stark nekid older woman bending toward my conditioner bottle. “Oh hi”, I said, “thanks so much, guess I dropped the soap.” I took what was mine stepped back and swiped the curtain closed all before dissolving into giggles. As if dragging a needle across a record, the fravolity comes to a close as I hear the woman in the shower stall next to me. She seems to be trying to clear something the size of a three year old from her throat. Before I have time to plan my next strategy, I hear her launch the three year old into the drain trough that runs the length of all of of the stalls. Unwilling to witness this three year old floating passed my feet on a raft of shampoo bubbles, I decided I was clean enough.
the only thing that could possibly have made me feel less clean was what happened hours later. Let us just refer to it as the band aid incident…E