#13-Prose-January 2nd- Stalling Time

Happy New Year everyone-
Part One of I'm guessing an ongoing story...:

Mental Small Talk:
The tile in the ladies room is green. And it’s not the paint. Lingering heavy in the air- the smell of menthols coating all grime that ever developed on any given surface in the entire room. And I came here to get “air”. Yeah. That was intelligent. I don’t even know what I’m still doing here anyway. Just takin up a spot in the long line to use the john. But I sense I’m not the only one in this. There’s a girl in the far corner over by the sinks and the banged up mirror- one nail short of fallin clean off the wall. Well at least there would be something clean. So this girl in the corner- she looks a little lost. Skirt short as hell, cleavage to stop any man in his tracks, fishnet stockings, and frizzy hair to make you fearful of electrical sockets for the rest of your natural life. You know who she is. She takes a long drag off her cigarette and doesn’t even bother to blow it out the window in which she stares out of in a heavy trance. Like maybe she’s already left the place and it’s just her body left polluting the rest of us. Not like the rest of us are doing any better for ourselves- just being here. For example: I think I need another drink.

Examen Exits:
I’m only here because of Ike. He’s got the fake ID’s. Even if I don’t care for the scumbag to much. It’s the only place I can get some of the hard stuff. Well…there are other places but I don’t possess the key to my Nazi father’s shatter proof liquor cabinet. But anyway- so ultimately I feel like getting out of here all together. If I don’t want to ride home with Mr. Can’t-keep-his-dick-in-his-pants I probably shouldn’t get too wasted so I can walk a straight line down the sidewalk on the way home.

Observe:
The smoke from electrical accident girl’s last puff clears and I can see the size of the window. And just my luck its barred. So I guess its time for plan B. Stall time. “Stall Time” having two clever meanings- stall time while sitting in the bathroom stall. If I don’t come out for long enough he’ll get tired of standing and leave. Then I can slip out. Presto- mission accomplished. And yeah, I realize there’s a billion dancing woman waiting for a precious bathroom stall- but with the exception of electrical accident girl who is happily finding solace in her cigarette, I gather that most of them have nice dates waiting for them outside. That- and they’re legal. So stall number two it is.

Wait:
Have you ever actually read the writing inside a bathroom stall? Well when you’re stalling (pun intended) it’s what you get to do to pass the time. Second question- have you ever actually dialed the phone numbers juvenilely scribbled into the toilet paper holder? Well if you’re taking a piss and share your phone with people, I would hope not. But when you’re trying to get rid of Ike and you were the kid in kindergarten who had to be sent to the corner because she couldn’t sit still- by all means dial.

Uneventful Action:
So take out my beaten up cell phone, pick the crudely scratched number under “Andy Dilhall is a dick-wad” and dial away.

.....to be continued.