Get Organized! Go Early!! Save Time!!!
My husband Terry and I love to go to the Oregon Symphony Pops concerts. Last time we went, I talked him into going to the Heathman Hotel which is next door to the theater, for dinner afterward.
I had appealed to his logic by explaining that we could enjoy a nice dinner and avoid the exhaust-filled
exodus from the six-story parking garage like we always have had to do in the past. (We seem to get to Portland within minutes before performance time and end up on the roof of the parking garage because those are the only spaces left. Then, after the show, we always have to crawl, bumper-to-bumper to get out, woozy from asphyxiation.)
After the concert, we hurried out to avoid the rush of fellow, hungry symphony goers that would ensue. Next door, we settled into our seats at a table for two. The Heathman Restaurant has great food and I was excited to be there. It’s swanky. The silverware is very heavy and the linen tablecloth was starched and as white as a baby’s first tooth.
I had to go to the bathroom (I’d vetoed going at intermission), so I told Terry, “I’m going to go powder my nose,” and hustled off to the Women’s Restroom. I don’t know why I said that. I wasn’t going to powder my nose and I didn’t have any powder in my purse; I don’t even use powder at home! I guess when I get in a fancy place I want to be ladylike. Oh well. Anyway, the restroom was as classy as the restaurant. The long door handle into the “powder” room was gold and silver and the door was heavy like the silverware. The restroom was empty, and there were just three stalls that had the kind of doors that go all the way to the floor so I couldn’t see feet, to know if there were women in any of them.
Being very careful, not to open the door on someone, I took hold of one of the beautiful door handles (identical to the silver and gold door handle on the door going into the restroom). I pulled ever so slightly and it opened. The stall was vacant. While I was in there I noticed the gorgeous marble flooring and the polished fixture that housed the toilet paper. It made me want to refurbish our bathroom.
When I came out of my stall, the restroom was full of women in various stages of “powdering their noses.” I squeezed through the crush of post-concert ladies to the elegant marble sink and washed my hands, while more crammed themselves in. I dried my hands, eager to get back to our table and headed out behind a tall woman who was obviously leading the way. As she opened the door and headed out, I was right behind her, but instead of continuing out into the lobby, she stopped abruptly and I gently bumped into her. Then without giving me any space at all, she turned around with a loud, “OH My God!” Now, we were face to face and if she’d not been so tall, we’d have touched noses!
It was only when I leaned a little to try to get around her that I saw it! It was a toilet! I’d followed her into one of the stalls! She wasn’t on her way out, she was on her way in!
What do you do at a time like that? Women watched as I apologized profusely for my intrusion and tried to let her see my wedding rings so she’d know I wasn’t trying to hit on her. I explained how the door into the stalls had the same fancy handles as the door going in and out of the restroom. When she saw that, she laughed, and so did several on-lookers. When I left, I was grateful for women. God knows what would have happened if it had been two men under the same circumstance.
Next time we go to a concert, we could be more organized about it and get to Portland a half hour before it starts, but I sure like the idea of eating out afterward. Hey we could do both. We could go early and park on the first floor, avoiding all the time spiraling round and round up
to the roof. Then, after we eat, we wouldn’t have to take all that time spiraling down to the street. I suspect, in the past, we’ve spent at least twenty minutes spiraling. Yes, get organized, go early, save time AND eat in a nice restaurant.
Thank you for reading my blog today. I hope you got a little laugh on me and you’ll share it with your friends and family. I’d love to hear about one of your embarrassing moments.