Appeasing the Restroom Goddess

Someone had made a total mess of the ladies' room at Mervyn's. I have never been to Mervyn's before, but it was on our way back to the car from CompUSA and Flip needed a restroom. I figured as long as I had to wait for him, I'd use one, too. I get bored easily.

The mess on the floor involved an entire huge bottle of liquid hand cleaner, pink, which had apparently been left on the sink by the janitress. Two other women exited their stalls and cruised straight out of the restroom without washing their hands. I stopped at the sink so when the janitress returned, I was the only one in there, with wet, soapy hands.

She gesticulated toward the spillage on the floor, which the culprit had attempted to cover with a million or so paper towels, unsuccessfully, I might add, and began to scream at me in Spanish.

I can speak the language passably if I think about it, but she had me frozen in the headlights, mesmerized, with wet, soapy hands which I was attempting to rinse and dry quickly on my jeans since the paper towels, as I mentioned, were all on the floor.

The Spanish-speaking part of my brain clamped shut. All I could think to say was "No me. No me!"

She, the janitress, was loudly running through every known Spanish curse while making obscene hand gestures at No me. A lot of "putas" and "chingadas" mixed in with other words I didn't know. Even screeched en voz alta by a deranged harpy, Spanish is beautiful.

She planted herself between me and the door to the rest of the world, the rest of my life. "NO ME," I said again. "No me."

She was not impressed. She hefted another gigantic bottle of pink liquid soap and prepared to hurl it at me like a shotput. I was wearing a delicious jacket of the world's softest suede. Fawn-colored. It didn't come from Mervyn's. I love this jacket. Suede cannot be cleaned well. I knew real fear.

"Terrible people," I said. "Personas malas. They didn't even wash their hands."

"Puta chingada."

I made an end run around her and scored a touchdown. I got out of the bathroom.

Jeez, lady, I'm sorry you have a rotten job in the Promised Land and the coyote ripped you off when he smuggled you into my country. But that was No me either. And if you want respect, here or anywhere, you have to give it to others.

I cannot begin to imagine what her life is like. Very likely, it sucks. What I do know is that as long as she takes out her rage on innocent strangers, it will not improve. You reap what you sow. If what you sow is doodoo, that is what you will get back. Even America cannot perform milagros (miracles) out of nothing.