My Night in Jail
Even as a 25-year old woman, I have to lie to my mother any time I go on vacation. It’s not because I’m sneaking around; I’m just “protecting her from the truth”. If she knows I’m on a plane/ train/ automobile, she’ll worries herself sick, so out of sheer love, I lie.
Keep in mind, lying to my mom is no small task because she has “Radar”. A few years ago, I went to Las Vegas, I had no sooner gotten off the plane when my phone started ringing off the hook. “Oh, I’m just playing video games, mom. That’s TOTALLY not the sound of 5,000 slot machines going off at once…”
So, last week, I went to the Ottawa International Animation Festival. I made the mistake of telling my mom about when I first went to the convention in 2002, so every year she starts pestering me about it when September rolls around. This year, I was hoping she would forget, but the night before my flight, her Radar went off.
“Stephie, you going to dat Canada ting again?”
“Yes, it’s tomorrow,” I replied glumly, knowing damned well that I had just stepped into a two-hour conversation.
“Are you gonna get your period? Did you pack pads?”
“Oh, my gosh, mom, please…”
“Don’t forgit your Passport. Your birth certificate is no good now.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And don’t jus pack crappy tank tops, it’s cold in Canada.”
“Yes, I know, this is like the fifth Canada trip I’m taking.”
“Listen, your teacher is gonna be dere to chaperon, right?”
“I’m 25 now, mom, they have ME listed as a chaperon.”
“Vell, I hope a teacher is still around to check and make sure nobody steals you. Are you bringing your mace?”
“No, you’re not allowed to bring mace across borders.”
“Are you still staying at that crappy Jail Hostel?”
“Yeah, it’s cheap.”
“But vhat if something happens? Vhy don’t you buy some more mace?”
“Listen, just for you, I’m going to bring the giant pair of razor-sharp tweezers your sister got me for my birthday. If anyone messes with me, I’ll just impale them.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m vorried…”
“Don’t worry. These Canadians…they’re a gentle people.”
“Stephie, don’t forget to pack your maxi pads.”
As expected, the conversation went on like this for another hour and forty-five minutes.
So, I went to Ottawa and had a grand old time. The Jail Hostel isn’t even that bad – there’s a full kitchen, eating area, free wireless internet, and male and female floors are segregated. I highly suggest it for the value! The only thing I hate is the public showers – they’re a little skeevy.
One night, I entered the shower with my pool shoes (mom reminded me to bring them about a million times), and closed the stall door behind me. In the middle of shampooing I heard someone come in a few stalls down from me. I finished up, toweled off, I noticed that the other person in the shower never turned the water on.
My paranoia set in. I had already called 9-11 earlier in the week because a student collapsed from alcohol consumption, so I was imagining some drunk girl chocking on her own vomit in the shower. I glanced over at the closed stall door and just as I saw a flash of HAIR peek our from over the partition. Now, keep in mind, it was about 3:00 in the morning and I had attended about 500 marketing seminars, so I figured I was hallucinating. I looked up and saw the hair peek out once again. To ease my apprehension, I slightly bent down to peeked below the stall, expecting to see painted toenails, but I simply saw four legs of a chair.
I reacted before I could actually think. “What the f*ck do you think you’re doing?” I asked the bathroom door. I stopped to think for a moment. Holy crap, I can’t believe I just said that. I am standing in an old prison at 3:00 in the morning wearing nothing but a towel talking to some disembodied head of hair in the shower. If this isn’t the setup to some grisly horror movie, I don’t know what is. My mother was right all along. Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh…
I rustled around in my bag…crap! That’s right, no mace! But I had my trusty thrusting tweezers. I pulled them out and waited for a reaction.
The door replied in a teenage male voice. “Ohhh…..crap. Am I in the girl’s room or something?”
I rolled my eyes. “Uh, yeah, and I gather you learned that from staring at me from the side of the shower stall inappropriately?”
“CRAP! CRAP! No, uhh..it’s a mistake! F*ck! I thought I might be in the girl’s shower and I was trying to be inconspicuous! Sh*t! It’s not what it looks like!”
For about two seconds, I believed him. I mean, heck, if I accidentally walked into a male shower room, I would probably hide until I knew everyone was gone, too.
Just as I let my guard down, the crazed 18-year old bust out of the shower stall. I stood there, shocked, with my feeble tweezers in hand as he ran by me, calling, “Sorry sorry sorry sorry!”
I was dismayed to see that he was wearing street clothes, and had no towel/toiletries to speak of. I was speechless. This could only mean one thing…
PEEPING TOM!
I ran back to my “jail cell” as fast as I could, squish-squashing puddles of water though the entire corridor. I threw on my pajamas and immediately tried to wake my friend Lisa who was sleeping in the bunk above me.
“Lisa, Lisa, come downstairs with me, I need to go to the main office. Dammit…”
Nothing. Not even a stir. She was out like a light.
I didn’t want to walk around alone anymore, so waited until morning to file an incident report. The more I thought about it, the more it kinda creeped me out. I went back to the shower, just to see if I was making a big deal out of nothing. I went over to his shower stall and the chair was still in there. I stood up on the chair and got a full gander at the three adjacent stalls.
Man, I am such a moron for showering alone in a public bathroom. Someone could have totally attacked me, or I could be in a Canadian prison right now for murdering some punk with a pair of tweezers. Thank GOD I am about 6 feet tall…I mean, what if he had seen me and thought, “Well, I can’t assault this brontosaurus, so I’ll wait for some smaller girl to molest.” AHHHH!
I considered hanging up signs to warn the other girls with a little picture that said, “Girls! Make sure you shower with a buddy!” But just my luck, the whole “Shower with a Buddy” slogan would attract MORE Peeping Toms.
In an attempt to rationalize this whole incident to myself and not completely lose faith in society, I just chalked the whole incident up to some kid trying to get a cheap thrill. But just in case, I verbally warned all the college girls on the trip. Professor Larry overheard the story and commented, “Well, let’s just hope he was only peeping at you with his eyes and wasn’t taking pictures with his cell phone.”
Thanks, Larry. I hadn’t even thought of that.
So, next time you’re cruising the internet for porn, let me know if you come across my picture on www.SoapyBrontosauruses.Com. And please, for future reference, when you’re in a public shower of any kind, be safe and Shower with a Buddy.
Previous Post: « Prom Part 4: Prom Weekend Next Post: Authentic American Goulash Recipe »
Facebook comments:
Wanna buy some pictures, eh?
LOL Thats so freaking funny! But what about tampons isntead of pads? Doesn’t your mom know anything? Did you need them anyway?
Oh yeah, and WOW never thought about him taking pics with his phone! LOL LOL OMG!
Mistress,
Oh, dear god, that’s a whole seperate blog. She basically says, “Don’t use tampons – dey’ll get stuck up inside of you and rot.” Yeah, that’s pretty graphic.
Yes, see? That’s why I refuse to stay at the hostels. Lol.
tang na yan oh
Eeeewww… What a creep!…
Something similar to this episode of yours happened to a girl in my senior- high class while. We travelled to Italy and were staying at this creepy hostel (also an old prision, mind that) in Rome. When she was showering alone She also noticed someone was on one of the stalls watching her. When she realized it was some perv she screamed. While the guy was trying to run past her, she kicked him in the balls. What a gal! The girls called the police and the hostel manager and the guy was taken.