Post by Johnny Yen on Jun 2, 2010 14:11:13 GMT -5
Train back from London Marylebone, to Warwick Parkway, needing desperately to micturate. The journey had been terrible as an old man had sat next to me, falling asleep and lolling in my direction repeatedly, I had to nudge him awake at one point. To add insult to injury he farted at Bicester. Anyway, following this, I arrive at the station and head to the loo. Weird I think, No urinals, go into a cubicle, and begin.
Brain then says "Why would they have a sani bin in a gents loo?"
Sudden horrifc realisation dawns on me, literally like the pieces fallling slowly into place, I've wondered into the bloody ladies.
3 cubicles.
|AS a punctuation on my realisation, the familier sound of high heels on tiles is heard, and the cubicle door next to mine opens.
Oh god.....
Do i have time to make my escape before she finishes, or do I wait it out?
This queastion is answered by the sound of another pair of heels clopping their way in.
Now breaking into a cold sweat, the second door closes as the first opens.
The bloody woman spends ten minutes washing her sodding hads, whilst the sweat pours off me, knowing that it will be mere seconds until someone spots the size 11 feet stickout out underneath and report the pervert who is clearly getting thrills from hanging around in the ladies.
As she finishes washing her hands, the toilet flushes and lady 2 leaves and starts washing her hands. a third pair of heels is then heard and I realise I am going to be stuck in warwick parkway ladies bog for the rest of my natural life. When the second lady leaves, I pull the chain (which is really a handle that I push? Wht do we still say pull the chain?) and leg it. Without washing my hands.
I tried not to look embarassed, but doubt I succeeded.
Brain then says "Why would they have a sani bin in a gents loo?"
Sudden horrifc realisation dawns on me, literally like the pieces fallling slowly into place, I've wondered into the bloody ladies.
3 cubicles.
|AS a punctuation on my realisation, the familier sound of high heels on tiles is heard, and the cubicle door next to mine opens.
Oh god.....
Do i have time to make my escape before she finishes, or do I wait it out?
This queastion is answered by the sound of another pair of heels clopping their way in.
Now breaking into a cold sweat, the second door closes as the first opens.
The bloody woman spends ten minutes washing her sodding hads, whilst the sweat pours off me, knowing that it will be mere seconds until someone spots the size 11 feet stickout out underneath and report the pervert who is clearly getting thrills from hanging around in the ladies.
As she finishes washing her hands, the toilet flushes and lady 2 leaves and starts washing her hands. a third pair of heels is then heard and I realise I am going to be stuck in warwick parkway ladies bog for the rest of my natural life. When the second lady leaves, I pull the chain (which is really a handle that I push? Wht do we still say pull the chain?) and leg it. Without washing my hands.
I tried not to look embarassed, but doubt I succeeded.
