My most recent airport adventure

If there's one thing in the world that makes me intensely uncomfortable, it's entering a public restroom that has a bathroom attendant. For the life of me I cannot figure out a) why they would ever be necessary, and b) why anyone would ever want that job. I think if given the choice between being a regular janitor and being a bathroom attendant, I would go janitor all the way. Sure, I might still have to clean toilets, but at least "sit awkwardly outside the stalls while people do their business" is not in my job description.

And of course the worst part of using a restroom with a bathroom attendant is that godawful tip jar. Why would I want to tip you for creeping me out? I actually feel that I should be the one getting the tip for having to pee while you are sitting outside the door next to your collection of lotions and stale mints. I can rip off my own paper towel, thanks.

On our way back from our honeymoon in Jamaica I had the misfortune of running into a bathroom attendant at the Charlotte International Airport. Are you kidding me? A bathroom attendant at an airport? There are so many things wrong with that I don't even know where to begin. Airport bathrooms are notoriously gross. You just need to get in and get out. Most people aren't going to be hanging out in there, testing out the latest Britney Spears fragrance.

The main problem with the bathroom attendant in Charlotte was that she was not even doing her job properly. The first stall I went into didn't have any toilet paper -- isn't replacing the toilet paper a major part of the bathroom attendant's job? That seems like a no-brainer. I left the first stall and walked into the second stall, which had a seat covered with pee. Once the attendant saw me emerging from a second stall looking angry, she directed me into a third stall that also had a pee-covered seat. I think I mumbled something like "But it's gross!" and then ran out of the bathroom without peeing. How does this girl have the gall to ask for tips when she can't even be bothered to restock the toilet paper or wipe pee off of seats?

In my haste to escape that awkward interaction, I had neglected to re-button my pants, which I had undone in the first stall. So now I'm walking through the airport with my pants undone. But I couldn't reach down and button them because it would look weird and creepy, and I couldn't go back into the bathroom because I didn't want to face that worthless bathroom attendant again, and I couldn't find another bathroom because our flight was about to board. So I was stuck in a precarious pants situation AND I still had to pee.

It wasn't a very long walk from the bathroom back to the gate where Matt was waiting, but even a short few steps can be traumatizing if your pants are undone in a public place. In addition to the fairly rational fear that my pants would fall down around my ankles, I was also terrified that security would notice my situation and mistakenly assume that I was trying to smuggle drugs or something in my pantaloons. You could say I'm a little bit paranoid even on a daily basis, so throw in the possibility of unintentionally mooning all of Terminal C AND getting strip-searched by a disgruntled airport cop, and I was really freaking out.

Almost immediately after I got back to our gate, they started boarding the plane. At least I had made it through the airport without incident. At that point I figured I'd just run with it, so I flew from Charlotte to National with my pants undone. It wasn't so bad once I was seated with my seat belt on. And by the time we got back to DC, my paranoia had dissipated a bit.

I tried to head to the bathroom after we landed, but there was this weird convention of old men milling around the hallway. I think they were war veterans. There were a lot of wheelchairs and a lot of slow-moving people in matching t-shirts. Anyway, they were congregating around the bathroom. Surprising, right? I didn't want to be that close to that many old people with my pants undone. It just didn't feel right. So I avoided the bathroom all together and just waited until I got home. Imagine how terrible it would have been if my pants had fallen down in front of all those old people? If that had happened, I would have calmly explained that it's not my fault that I'm flashing a group of elderly veterans. I'm not the anti-American one! Blame it on the bathroom attendant back in Charlotte who needs a little lesson in motivation.