Need to Get Away?

I was sitting with my family in a little restaurant called bd's mongolian grill when it came time to make a pit stop. I did what we all do in that situation. I stood up and started glancing around a bit for the signs. I don't know if you've noticed, but the new trend in restaurant layout appears to be "don't let anyone walk in a straight line to anywhere."

After scanning the restaurant (again, it's laid out like a medieval village) I went in the direction that made sense to me. I went toward the bar/waiting-to-get-a-seat area, but that wasn't the place.

I did an about face and began snaking my way toward a back room called something like "The Warrior Room." I did a left at the salad bar, a right around a half-wall, a double helix around the last section of tables and then . . . nothing.

An astute waitress asked what I was looking for. I, of course, told her I was trying to find the restrooms. She said, "Oh, it's right over there, just around that corner."

She seemed honest enough so I went "over there", turned the corner toward which she had pointed, and voila! There it was.

While I was washing my hands I sensed something was wrong. This wasn't the normal kind of men's room. Suddenly I felt the blood rushing to my face. The main door from the hallway opened and standing there was a little girl--next to her mom. Her mom looked at me. Then she looked at the open door. Then she looked at me again.

"Ooooh noooo!" I said, looking again at the door, "Ooooh noooo! It says monGALS, not mongols! I am so sorry! This is awful!" And then a woman walked past me from the bathroom back into the restaurant--a woman who had been in there the whole time.

Sigh.

How does the cliche' go? Look before you leap? He who hesitates winds up in the correct room? I don't know. What I do know is that when I returned to the table the lady who breezed past me out of the bathroom was obviously telling the story to her table. Everyone at that table began to chuckle then turned to get a look at me.

All I could do was wave.

In my defense (and you knew I would try to defend myself here), the waitress did say "just around that corner." And the sign . . . the sign. . . well, let's just say it isn't designed for easy discernment in a time of need. I don't know what Mongolian women look like, but this trans-gender cartoon on the bathroom door communicated "boy" to me.

Oh well. Joke's on me.