A Most Embarrassing Predicament

Now and then I do something that is beyond embarrassing, and this story definitely qualifies. My husband, a close observer of my life and times for 41 years (45 if you count the dating), believes I have a unique ability to bring these things upon myself, but I still maintain that this experience could have happened to anyone...would have happened to anyone, under the same conditions. Particularly disturbing is the fact that my little mishap occurred one afternoon when the two of us were attending an elegant luncheon and team-building meeting for the most senior executives of his former employer. Dave had recently been made the new CFO, and both of us wanted to make a good impression.

We were seated in the large and lovely, private banquet room of a posh hotel, thoroughly enjoying ourselves. The food, company, and view were excellent, with every need anticipated by the type of waiter who somehow manages to fill your glass without interrupting the flow of conversation. Shortly before dessert, I excused myself to use the restroom. Not surprisingly, it was large and lovely too, with marble floors and counters. There were no stalls, just one gleaming throne in the center of the room, so I quickly locked the door, availed myself of a disposable seat cover, and prepared to get the job done.

My outfit that day was a silky black culotte, a style which was popular at the time. In purchasing the split-leg dress, it had never occurred to me that the logistics might be a little difficult. Still, it didn't take me long to realize that I would have to unzip the one-piece garment, pull the entire ensemble down as if it were a pair of slacks, then do my utmost to keep all that extra material from touching the bathroom floor. Ever resourceful, I managed to accomplish exactly that. Having taken care of business, I went to reassemble myself and realized that something rather...unfortunate...had occurred.

Apparently, while the highly misleading toilet seat was oval as oval could be, the porcelain base beneath it was round as a penny. In other words, the top seat overlapped the porcelain bowl by several inches, meaning that one had to sit back rather far to hit one's mark. Entirely unaware of this dynamic, and carefully perched towards the front of said seat whilst endeavoring to keep my dress off the ground, I had quite effectively soaked both my outfit and the floor. Nary a drop had landed in the bowl for which it was intended, and beneath me was one alarmingly depthy puddle (thanks, water-filling waiter!) and one sopping wet piece of apparel. I was horrified and amused at the same time, laughing and panicking all at once. How was I going to get myself out of this mess without anyone being the wiser?

As I began frantically wiping up the floor with the seat covers (there were no paper towels in the room at all...just those linen, scented ones), one of the wives in my party knocked on the door. "Just a minute," I yelled as sweetly as possible, continuing to clean desperately. (May I mention that toilet seat covers are somewhat less than absorbent?) (And TP squares are smaller than you think??) But I pressed on, wishing as never before for a mop. Or a sweater. Or even a plush towel.

Once I finished that task (I'm still not sure how I did it), I ran the culotte dress over to the sink. Operating at warp speed, I washed the entire thing in soap and water, wringing it out as dry as possible. Amazingly, the material was such a shiny, silky polyester that it didn't even look wet. Of course, having to put it back on felt pretty uncomfortable, but I was so happy to have the matter taken care of that I didn't mind the cold clamminess at all. In fact, a wave of relief that could only be described as smug self-satsified engulfed me. Once again, I had beaten the odds, emerging unscathed from a dilemma of infinite proportions.

I opened the door to the waiting woman (actually women, now, because more had come) and tried to act natural. It wasn't easy, but I think I pulled it off. When I was seated once again next to my husband for dessert, I couldn't resist the urge to lean over and share my experience. "I just went to the bathroom all over my dress," I whispered nonchalantly.

To my disappointment, he didn't even look surprised. (Truth is, I'm kind of an accident waiting to happen.)

But I always seem to come out smelling like a rose.

Or in this case, like pina colada Softsoap.

;)