January 3, 2008

After a tumultuous exchange with Nick earlier in the night, he reluctantly ended up joining his dad, Gary, and myself for New Year’s Eve in New York City at the annual Gov’t Mule NYE fest at the Beacon.

We arrived via mass transportation (translation - the bus) at the Port Authority (PA) along with several hundred other soon-to-be revelers. Surprisingly, traffic was exceptionally light (possibly everyone was using mass transportation, too?), and we made it in under an hour. Impressive!

With extra time on our hands, we decided to grab a quick bite to eat before the show (the real reason was to have something to absorb the alcohol which was about to be consumed), and ended up at a pizza joint inside the PA. Nick grabbed a couple of slices while I went for the pasta primavera. I only mention this because - for fast food coming from the PA - it was pretty damned good.

Bellies full, we started to walk over to the subway to catch the No.1 train. I figured it’d be a good idea to use the bathrooms before we left the PA, and made my way to the ladies’ room. In the bathroom, there was a small line. Looking around, I noticed there were open stalls, but nobody was going in them.

Moi: Is someone else waiting?
Lady #1: No, some stalls don’t have any toilet paper.
Moi: Oh, I see.

Next in line, I waited patiently for a stall to open up.

Moi (talking to lady in line behind me): You’d think they would’ve stocked this up good tonight.
Lady #2: Yeah, no kidding.

Ah, my turn. I walk into the stall, and with a flash of brilliance, turn back to the lady behind me.

Moi: Let’s expedite this process - come grab some toilet paper and then you won’t have to wait, just go to an empty stall.
Lady #2: Wow, that’s a great idea. Thanks!

She grabs a handful and happily walks off.

I use the bathroom and, after washing my hands and drying them under one of those electric dryers, leave the ladies’ room. I meet up with Nick and Gar and we continue on our way to the subway.

The mile-long walk to the subway (ok - it seemed like it was a mile) was crowded and the air was hot! On the way, we stopped by the various kiosks scattered about trying to find a personal fan to keep me cooled off (remember, I’m perimenopasual). After several attempts, I find one. Not necessarily the one I wanted - “Hello Kitty” scrawled across the yellow paper - but dammit, it was only $2.00, it provided instant relief from the heat, and that’s all that mattered at the time. (As it turned out, it only lasted half the night before falling apart.)

Moving onward, we end up at the platform, where we wait for and hop aboard the subway, even getting a seat for the short ride. Upon exiting to the street, I feel someone tapping me on the shoulder.

Lady #3: Hey, you’ve got something stuck to your shoe.
Moi: Wha-? Huh?
Lady #3: On the bottom of your shoe, some sort of paper.

There, stuck to the bottom of my boot, was a toilet paper train - easily 9-10 squares.

Moi (looking down): Arghhh … Dammit! Thank you very much.
Lady #3: You’re welcome. Happy New Year!
Moi: (daintily removing the paper from my boot) Yeah, Happy New Year to you, too! …Hey guys, wait up!

I hurry to catch up and we all mosey on over to the Beacon.

Ya know, nothing like making a fool of yourself traipsing around the city with toilet paper stuck to your shoe. Come think of it - neither Nick nor Gar noticed it? How is that so? Hmmmm….

I guess it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been stuck to the back of my pants, instead.

In hindsight, it’s no wonder there wasn’t any toilet paper available in the stalls - it was scattered all over the floors and streets instead. What’s wrong with some of you ladies? If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were men disguised as women using our bathrooms. It’s not kitty litter to line our stalls, and it’s not confetti to throw around in Times Square on NYE. Be kind - you gotta spare and share those squares.

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