You are probably wondering when the last time was you entered a public restroom and found the seat cover down because most of them don’t actually have seat covers, but the key word here is ‘most’. The majority of us look for a public restroom because we just can’t hold it until we get home or our momma's house or happen to be out of town and are usually in a hurry to just handle our business. Basically, it’s in and out—am I right? And imagine if you’ve had a few drinks! You really just need to get there and pray your zipper doesn't get stuck or that there isn't a long line. Once you get to the stall it’s almost a robotic move just going through the motions because you may be too tipsy to even thin and are now operating strictly on instinct, and that is exactly what happened to me.
A few weeks ago, I went on a weekend trip with my mom and sister. The three of us are at this fancy hotel, sitting at its fancy bar having Margaritas--spicy ones, too, and to be honest with you, I can’t really hang. I’ve never been a heavy drinker so with three cocktails I’m over the moon happy, loving everyone around me and dancing to every song I hear as if I were performing as a backup dancer for Jennifer Lopez (like my friend Melanie Sterner who’s always dancing like she’s on a stage—Mel if you’re reading this, you know I’m right!). Anyway, so I’m here so excited to be out with my mom and sister but get the sudden urge to go pee. I excuse myself, go through this maze which includes walking down two flights of stairs at this elegant hotel and finally make it to the public restroom, which looked more like a penthouse suite with beautiful mirrors, a sofa with a few fashion magazines spread over a glass table with silver trimming and the lighting was absolutely perfect to take a few selfies—but after I peed. So, I rush to one of the stalls and let it all go…and when I’m done, I actually let out a short high-pitched scream as I realized the God damn seat cover of the toilet was down THE WHOLE TIME! Papa Dios why is this happening!!! Luckily there wasn’t a soul in that gorgeous penthouse-like restroom, so I start cleaning it all up with soap and water and I pray I did a good job because I was tipsy AF. Now that I think of it, I’m pretty sure I did because that scare sobered me up for the five minutes it took me to leave the stall spotless. I even composed myself enough to take advantage of the lighting and snap my selfie.
Once I make it back to the bar I tell my mom and sis the story and to my surprise my sister is mortified as she tells me in a very annoying voice “we just can’t take you anywhere” while my mother, who is the epitome of elegance, class and always so critical is cracking up at the misfortune I just endured in the restroom. I laughed about it once I was out of the shame-zone and no one ever noticed what went down back at that restroom. So my dear beautiful CHICKS here is the moral of the story—don’t just go for the squat, check and be sure the fucking toilet seat cover is NOT down, unless this happened to you already and the lesson is one you'll never forget because maybe, unlike me, you weren't alone and had to spend a time out in the shame-zone. #askingforafriend I'm right here!