Check, Please!

Please don't read this post while eating a meal. This blog entry is based on true events. A name has been changed to protect the identity of a certain person. She has requested that I refer to her as "Allison."

We had dinner on Friday night at Mimi's Cafe, a family friendly chain restaurant more commonly found in the West than here in the South. My daughters like to eat there because of the chocolate chip pancakes. I can never go there without overeating, but I tolerate the occasional visit there. To me, it is just like eating at the Cracker Barrel, but without all the Jesus. We met my husband's best friend and his family there, and in between discussing robots with his four year old and watching E, my older daughter, unhinge her jaw to swallow a piece of turkey whole rather than cut it, it was a pleasant enough meal. We had all finished our dinners when my younger daughter, Allison, told me she needed to go to the bathroom and mouthed the word "poo." E offered to take her since she needed to wash her disgusting hands, so I happily let them go off alone to the other side of the restaurant while I picked at the crumbs of my oat bran muffin.

Less than 2 minutes passed before E and Allison had returned. "That was fast," I said. "I am scared of the automatic toilets," Allison told me. I offered to take her back to the bathroom, and we walked hand in hand across the restaurant. The restroom is nicer than most in typical casual dining facilities. It has two regular stalls and one disabled one, as well as that nice foaming soap to which I am attached, and shiny brass sinks. Allison asked me to go with her in the large disabled stall, and I put the paper liner on the seat for her while she dropped trou. I turned my back to her for privacy and listened to the music, which meant it wasn't long before I was dancing and singing. "Stop that, someone will see you," Allison said from her perch on the crapper. "Only you, and I am trying not to watch you. Why don't you ignore me as well?" I was slow dancing with myself to a Nat King Cole song.

The bathroom door opened and I stood as still and silent as Michigan J Frog. A mother and son entered the stall next to us, so I quietly listened to them. "Sit down," the mother said. "But Mama, grown ups stand up when they pee." Mama answered more sternly," I don't care, I said sit down." I turned to look at Allison and she was making big eyes at me. "Almost through?" I asked. She shook her head yes and I saw from where I stood across the room that she had made what had to be the biggest poo any six year old had passed and survived to tell the tale. It was standing straight up out of the water like an angry cobra, and the recessed lighting above the toilet shined down on its unholy grandeur.

"Wow," I said. "That thing is huge! Can I see it?" Allison was appalled. "No! Well, only if you wipe me." She had only recently and reluctantly started wiping herself, as she felt it was better to keep her hands clean. Than, say, my hands, or her ass. The door opened and more people came into the bathroom. I could hear other conversations taking place as ladies waited their turns. "Never mind," I told Allison. "You can do it yourself." I turned around again and waited until she was finished. She stood and pulled up her pants and I heard the toilet flush automatically.

"Mom!" Allison called me as quietly as she could. "Help!" I turned around, expecting water to be flowing over the sides of the bowl. "Come here," she gestured with her hand. I looked down and there, on the inside of the bowl, was one of her turds, looking more like someone placed it there strategically than an accidental marooning. (And no, I did not snap a photo with my camera phone.) The paper seat liner was bobbing gently in the shallow water. I did what I would normally do in such a situation. I cracked up. "Stop laughing," Allison screeched. "What are we going to do?" I had tears running down my cheeks and could not think clearly. I wiped my eyes and looked at the back of the toilet for the little black button that all automatic toilets have in case you are in need of more than one flush. And it was cracked, the plastic all ragged and missing in places. I pressed it and nothing happened. I pressed again, more firmly, and no flush occurred. So I started laughing again.

Allison grabbed my face in her little possibly poo tainted hands and said again, "Stop laughing! What are we going to do? You have to sit on it to make it flush." By this point, I was crying again. I pretended to sit down, hovering slightly over the seat, and stood up. No flush. I tried again. Nothing. I laughed harder. More women came into the restroom. A line formed outside our stall. "Try again!" Allison screamed under her breath. "Sit longer!" I hovered again while Allison counted to twenty, and then I rose and ran over to the stall door next to her. Success! The water rushed and swirled the bowl.

Allison grabbed my hand and we went back over to peer again into the porcelain bowl. The turd was still sitting there, in all its damp perfection. I laughed harder. "Now what?" Allison was on the verge of tears. I pressed that broken worthless button a few more times. Then I grabbed a big wad of toilet paper and did what any mother would do. I tried to shove it into the water. It worked too, but not without first smearing across the white porcelain. I threw the wad into the water and pretended to sit again while Allison counted to twenty once more. I got up and ran next to her, still cackling, while the water flushed.

We gazed again into the toilet and at last, victory! But alas, it was bittersweet, as the shit smear lingered on the side of the bowl. "What are you going to do about that?" Allison asked, pointing at it. "Nothing," I snorted, and unlocked the door. We stumbled in front of the sinks and washed our hands, pretending like we weren't the ones who just left that stall. I handed her some paper towels and we dried our hands before leaving the restroom. While we stood in the hallway, she again grabbed my face in her little hands and said, "We must never tell this to anyone." "Really?" I said. "No one." She looked very serious.

E walked up to us at this point and said, "Hey guys, what's taking so long?" I started laughing again. "No one," Allison stared at me before walking back to the table. I looked at E and said," Nothing. It's just really crowded in there."

I guess Allison has a new reason to be afraid of automatically flushing toilets. I know I do.