I admit it. I'm from a small town located in the deepest bowels of what could possibly be described as down right country. But I'll never say I'm proud of this. Just as such a tiny town, the school could be described as the same. This school is, figuratively, microscopic. So tiny, in fact, that the school district no longer exists and the original buildings are nearly abandoned.
A dying place, really.
So, of course, I grew up knowing exactly who everyone was and where everything is within my high school. I knew the locations of all two bathrooms, the history room, the computer lab, the office, everything. Nope, nothing was a mystery.
Back then, nothing was a mystery.
Once I started college, finding things now seem straight-forward. Room numbers are generally in order, and finding bathrooms is nothing more than mindlessly wondering down hallways until you find a sign. It's okay to look wild-eyed, looking like you've never seen those surroundings before in your life even though you've been through that building on and off for over a month, because with freshmen starting college every semester, there are always others who look as dumbfounded as you. Not to mention, if you leave in the middle of a lecture, hallways may become deserted, giving you free space to have your mental breakdown due to an old familiar building looking foreign all over again.
For me, however, everything outside of college and the comfort of my own residence hall or familiar home, my ability to comfortably find and use a restroom becomes nearly nonexistent.
Restaurants are, by nature, completely unfamiliar to me, no matter how many times I visit them. Usually, this is okay. Until I have to use the bathroom. There's no break from the infinite flow of people from the front doors, therefore, no break from unforgiving wandering eyes from others as they wonder why a person creeps around corners as though they're looking for their lost childhood puppy. Yes, I would be as excited to see a public toilet as I would if I saw my lost pet if I had to go bad enough.
Alternatively, I would ask whoever I came into the restaurant with where the bathroom was. And in many cases, I do. What is their response?
"Oh, it's over there." *point*
...
So, here I am, left with a decision to make. I could walk in the general direction of the person's blunt description, which, for me, would involve the same aimless wandering I would do if I had no clue where a restroom was, only I would have a much less area to cover. Then I would look like a stalker rather than crazy.
The other decision is asking for someone to walk with me there. I have an advantage here.
I'm a female. If I happen to be with a group of female friends, all I have to say is this:
"Hay gurlz! I gotta go to the bathroom!"
The general response:
"Oh, I'll go, too!"
"Let me go with you!"
"Might as well, I don't wanna be the only one here!"
It's a girl thing, really.
Another advantage I have here is that my boyfriend is usually with me. This one's tricky, though.
Me: "Can you take me to the bathroom?"
Bf: "The bathroom's over there." *point*
Me: "...I don't see it."
Bf: "It's just around the corner!"
Me: "There's five corners!"
Bf: "Pick the obvious one!"
Me: "THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME!"
Okay, I'm over-exaggerating here. But when I have a phobia of something, my fears exponentially expand as my common sense exponentially decreases.
However, I can usually get my boyfriend to walk me to the bathroom. He walks with me to a location I probably could have easily found on my own. Thoughts pass my mind such as "Oh, duh." and "Haha, I'm a silly derp."
Now, my boyfriend looks like a gentleman and I feel like a five-year-old again. Everyone wins.
A dying place, really.
So, of course, I grew up knowing exactly who everyone was and where everything is within my high school. I knew the locations of all two bathrooms, the history room, the computer lab, the office, everything. Nope, nothing was a mystery.
Back then, nothing was a mystery.
Once I started college, finding things now seem straight-forward. Room numbers are generally in order, and finding bathrooms is nothing more than mindlessly wondering down hallways until you find a sign. It's okay to look wild-eyed, looking like you've never seen those surroundings before in your life even though you've been through that building on and off for over a month, because with freshmen starting college every semester, there are always others who look as dumbfounded as you. Not to mention, if you leave in the middle of a lecture, hallways may become deserted, giving you free space to have your mental breakdown due to an old familiar building looking foreign all over again.
For me, however, everything outside of college and the comfort of my own residence hall or familiar home, my ability to comfortably find and use a restroom becomes nearly nonexistent.
Restaurants are, by nature, completely unfamiliar to me, no matter how many times I visit them. Usually, this is okay. Until I have to use the bathroom. There's no break from the infinite flow of people from the front doors, therefore, no break from unforgiving wandering eyes from others as they wonder why a person creeps around corners as though they're looking for their lost childhood puppy. Yes, I would be as excited to see a public toilet as I would if I saw my lost pet if I had to go bad enough.
Alternatively, I would ask whoever I came into the restaurant with where the bathroom was. And in many cases, I do. What is their response?
"Oh, it's over there." *point*
...
So, here I am, left with a decision to make. I could walk in the general direction of the person's blunt description, which, for me, would involve the same aimless wandering I would do if I had no clue where a restroom was, only I would have a much less area to cover. Then I would look like a stalker rather than crazy.
The other decision is asking for someone to walk with me there. I have an advantage here.
I'm a female. If I happen to be with a group of female friends, all I have to say is this:
"Hay gurlz! I gotta go to the bathroom!"
The general response:
"Oh, I'll go, too!"
"Let me go with you!"
"Might as well, I don't wanna be the only one here!"
It's a girl thing, really.
Another advantage I have here is that my boyfriend is usually with me. This one's tricky, though.
Me: "Can you take me to the bathroom?"
Bf: "The bathroom's over there." *point*
Me: "...I don't see it."
Bf: "It's just around the corner!"
Me: "There's five corners!"
Bf: "Pick the obvious one!"
Me: "THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME!"
Okay, I'm over-exaggerating here. But when I have a phobia of something, my fears exponentially expand as my common sense exponentially decreases.
However, I can usually get my boyfriend to walk me to the bathroom. He walks with me to a location I probably could have easily found on my own. Thoughts pass my mind such as "Oh, duh." and "Haha, I'm a silly derp."
Now, my boyfriend looks like a gentleman and I feel like a five-year-old again. Everyone wins.
