terracinque: (bridesmaid revisited)
[personal profile] terracinque
I'd like it noted for the record that in my previous entry I spelled "Khyrgyzstan" correctly without looking it up first.

Speaking of touching oneself, this morning I went to the men's room and sat down in a stall to do what one does in such places.

There was a man in the next stall over, and it was plain to me from what I was hearing (and not hearing) that he was using the stall for a purpose beyond its design.

I guess when you've got an urge you should satisfy it, but it boggles my mind that he would do that while there are other people in the room. Right next to him, in fact. Didn't he know? Did he even care? I was so embarrassed (for both of us) and uncomfortable that I began to hum loudly to cover the sounds he was making, and to stare ever more intently at my magazine. Mister, I come in here for a few minutes of peace and quiet, and you've utterly disrupted it. If it happens again I'm going to throw a roll of toilet paper over the wall.

I think it was "Camptown Races" that I hummed.
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