The Louvre

I accidentally went into the women’s room again. This time is was in the Histoire du Louvre exhibit, next to the entrance for Ancient Egypt. I don’t know what my problem is, but this happens way too often. Frankly, once ever is too much, but I’ve now accidentally gone in the women’s room three times in two years. This year it was the Louvre and the Columbus Sports Connection locker room and last year it was the ladies’ room at Dulles International Airport.

So, this time, shortly after noticing a tampon depository next to the toilet paper, I knew I was in big trouble. Then I heard someone come into the bathroom. I had to make a break for it, so I waited until I heard the door close and bolted, no time for hand washing, allez allez! And the woman’s husband was waiting for her at the door! SO EMBARRASSING!

And I did what any sane person would do given this situation: I put my chin up, looked the man square in the eye and with the talent of Lawrence Olivier, feigned as though I believed I had come from the men’s room. The guy looked at me in disbelief, which quickly turned to indignation and then to dread. “Is my wife in the Men’s room?” he may have been thinking. But I wouldn’t know. By then I was hiding amongst the Sarcophagi, praying to Osiris that he spare me the shame of ever having to see that man again.


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