I Have A Habit...

I have a habit when I'm in the bathroom at work and somebody else walks in. I tap my foot a couple of times. Not loudly, and not because I'm a Republican senator looking for a date. It's just enough to non-verbally pass the message that this bathroom is not unoccupied.

See, the stalls have doors that can be shut, thus passing along the message nicely. But the one lone wall urinal is packed away in a far corner, and you can't see if anybody is standing there until it's almost too late. I've had bathroomers (I made a new word!) nearly walk into me while I was doing my thing because normally I am silent like the ninja.

Anyway, I was in position and the bathroom door opened. I picked up one foot and lost my balance. I stumbled and stomped hard on the tile to keep from falling. "WHAM!"

It was awkward, but the point was made. The newcomer took his place in one of the stalls.

The guy managed to identify me, though. Later, he approached me. "Why did you stomp like that?" "Well," I explained, "I wanted to let you know that I was there so you wouldn't walk into me."

"Oh," said the guy. "Pointless, though. I needed one of the stalls anyway."

I was unfazed. "Yes, but how could *I* know that? When you first walk in, you're nameless and faceless. The burden of revelation is on you at that point. You'd have to throw open the door of the bathroom..." I tossed my arms wide in demonstration, "...and announce, I'M HERE TO POOP!"

I had raised my voice dramatically. My arms were stretched wide, my head thrown back in shameless "Game Show Announcer" mode. And I was at the entrance of my cubical.

I didn't bother to respond to the stares. I doubt I could have said anything to sway a jury on the matter anyway.