I was in San Diego last week for a conference. It’s a really cool place – with really cool people.
I thought I was kinda cool. After going there, I discovered I am not. I am so, so not.
I also thought I was fairly open-minded, accepting of others and new ideas. But maybe not so much either.
On Friday night, I went out in the Gaslamp neighborhood. This borough sort of reminded me of Bourbon Street in New Orleans. There was lots to see and do. Skimpy clothes. Lots of body art. Piercings galore. I’m good with all that. I actually find it interesting to observe different kinds of people.
What I didn’t expect was a female bathroom attendant in the men’s john!
I walked into a fairly small area, a couple of guys in line before me, and there she was – tending the sink. I don’t remember what she looked like or what she was wearing. I tried hard to look the other way. I did recognize that she was doing a great job of attending. She’d pump the soap right into your hand and have a drying towel ready when you finished rinsing. Her counter was full of essentials: hair gel, lotions, cologne. She even offered a plethora of tobacco products for your liking.
When I approached the urinal, a young dude on my right and she on my left, I thought to myself you ain’t in Raleigh anymore. Her phone rang, she answered. The line of full bladders was growing outside the door.
I tried to concentrate for I really needed to go. But I couldn’t. There was simply too much for this simpleton. I walked out as full as I’d entered.
I don’t want to be the person who gets stuck, who can’t accept the progressions of the world. I could end up having a daughter who decides to build a career in the bathroom service industry. I don’t want to thwart anyone’s potential. And I hate this was bothersome to me. But indeed it was!
My father accepted women Deacons in our church, and he was not raised with that mentality. Perhaps I too will warm up to this idea.
The Real Fuller House 