I was driving through Arkansas, on my way to deliver a car in south Texas. I stopped in Little Rock to go to a branch of my bank and cash a check. As I started to walk inside, a haggard-looking woman approached me rather aggressively. I immediately recognized her as one of "Bill's people."
"Hey! Hey you!" she said in a rough, gravelly voice.
I looked at her extremely tight and short red skirt and her brown stained teeth. "Who me?"
"Of course you, who else would I be talking to. You got any money?"
"No, " I said, which was the truth.
"There's money inside, I bet you're going in there to get some. I'll catch you on the way out. Count on it, amigo."
"I'm just going in for a quick consultation."
"Don't try to trip me up with your fancy vocabulary. I'm onto you."
I went inside, and as I was cashing the check I told the teller about it. I had been asked for money many times all over America, but never as I entered a bank. The teller laughed and said that the woman outside liked to hang around there. "She's not homeless or anything," the teller explained. "She's just a bit... off."
I asked if I could use the restroom, and she pointed to a door. I went through the door, then found two doors for two restrooms. Naturally, I chose the one marked MEN, and went into the only stall to have a seat. One minute later, I heard the same woman from out front's voice as she came into the restroom. It sounded as if she was talking on her cell phone, and she was talking very loudly. "So you know what I told her? I told her that she better back off or there was gonna be trouble. You think she listened to me?" The door to the stall began to shake and rattle and she tried to enter. And then she went into a tirade of cussing that would make a sailor blush. "That dirty #*@&% was @#$&% with my *@#%$ and I wasn't going to #?%!*$^ put up with it. She's a piece of $@^* and she needs to watch her mother-@$#%& mouth or I am going to royally #?%@* her up."
This went on and on, and I began to feel a bit nervous and uncomfortable. The restroom is a very private place to me, and I do not welcome company. It makes it hard for me to concentrate and take care of the business at hand. I was reminded of an incident just over a year ago, where a man in a restroom became way too friendly with me as he sat in the next stall. But why was this woman in the MEN's room?
I heard a tap-tap-tapping noise, and wondered what it was she was doing. It had a familiar ring, sort of like when someone is chopping vegetables in preparation of cooking them for a delicious meal. What was going on out there?
"Let me tell you something Louise, I will not be eating the @$%* that she wants to feed me. No way, no how." And then I heard the distinct sound of a woosh as she sucked something up her nostril. "I gotta tell you Louise, this is the best coke you ever got for me. Yummy yum yum." Then I heard the vacuum woosh again as she sucked more of it up her nose.
At this moment in time, I wanted to have one of those transporter devices on STAR TREK so I could just beam myself out of the stall. Then the stall door began to rattle and shake again, followed by a loud and rapid knocking. "Hey, you in there, you gonna take all day? I gotta take a wicked dump. You get me? Gotta drop the kids off at the pool. Quit hogging the toilet, you crazy toilet hog."
Suddenly I realized that I no longer needed to use the restroom. All I wanted was to leave with great haste, and I pulled myself together so I could do just that. I walked out of the stall, and saw her speaking into her cell phone. Only it was not a cell phone, it was a pack of Marlboro cigarettes. "I've gotta go, Louise." She hung up the cigarette pack. "You!" she shouted. "What the hell are you doing in the Ladies' room?"
I wondered if she noticed the urinals. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving."
"Not so fast. Have you got my money?"
"I never had your money."
"Cough it up right now, or I'll--" She interrupted herself. "Where's my coke?" She instantly dropped on the floor and began crawling around feeling the tile on the floor, looking for her lost treasure. I could see the little baggie of coke up on the counter by the sink, but didn't have the heart to interfere with her search. I made my way out the door, and heard her yell. "Call me later, lover!"
I got into my car and drove about a mile until I found a nice place with a quiet restroom I could use. For a driving fool, some days are better than others.