The Stallist Regime

Certain confidences are forged at sleepaway camp that seem to right the world's wrongs. The summer after sixth grade, Andrea and I had a heart-to-heart about why we both hated public restrooms. Both of us were subconscious about using the restroom when others were in there and worried that we weren't doing it correctly. Were we too fast, too slow, too loud? It went without saying that the other "patrons" were judging us. After two weeks, we went out separate ways, so our secret confessions were safe from the rest of the world . . . until now, of course.

I've carried a lot of similar neuroses with me over the years--including that one. I still dislike using public restrooms when others are in there. I would have assumed that this is universal dislike, were it not for new evidence.

In the ladies' room on the floor on which my office is located, there are four stalls, three "normal" ones and one handicapped stall. All four are along one wall, and the handicapped stall and the fourth stall are each flanked on one side by a concrete-type wall, comme ca:

If we call the stall that's directly next to the handicapped stall "Stall 3," the one next to it "Stall 2," and the final "Stall 1," it might make sense that I don't like to use Stall 2 or Stall 3, given my previous admission of neuroses. I don't like to feel as if I could be trapped between two people. Of course, I said that I discovered that not everyone is as crazy as I am, and this is how: I was just in the handicapped stall and all three were open, but the person who came in chose Stall 3, right next to me!

To me, this is like being the single passenger on a bus who finds that the only other person to get on sits right next to her. In both situations I'm completely creeped out.

Wow--talk about a potty mouth. Anyway, I also find that I have an order in which I use the stalls: 1. Handicapped Stall, 2. Stall 1, 3. pretend I just went in to wash my hands and come back in five minutes.

So, what I'd like to know is if others are as neurotic as I am. Do you get in the habit of using specific stalls at work, or is this just a hidden OCD action coming out of me?

But getting back to the camp discussion, Andrea and I never had any problem singing in the showers at camp. One particular night comes to mind when all twenty girls either in the shower or waiting for one started singing, "I feel like chicken tonight, like chicken tonight."