Matronly Merriment Muffled

Matronly Merriment Muffled

September 16, 2017

The last rest stop on I-94 in North Dakota. A quick one, as we had miles to go before dark, as it were. I entered the unoccupied ladies’ room, choosing a stall near the end of the line. Shortly someone else entered, footsteps stopping a few doors up from mine. Moments later, another set of footsteps, carrying a voice with them that could be heard speaking, though words were not discernible. Another stall door opened and closed. Then an audible conversation began, apparently unaware of my presence.

STALL ONE: Whatcha sayin’ out there?

STALL TWO: Oh, you heard that.

STALL ONE: Well, who ya talkin’ to? Yourself?

STALL TWO: Nope. I ain’t that desperate.

Intrigued, I listened unashamedly. Humorist Jeannie Robertson says if you listen, you will find humor in the most unexpected places. Well, I was listening, and this was unexpected.

ONE: Who, then? No one else here!

Little did she know.

TWO: I was talkin’ to my bladder.

ONE: Whatsa’ matter, ain’t it cooperating today?

TWO: Well...it’s movin’ slow, and I’m movin’ slower.

Hmmm.

ONE: And you think talking to it will help?

TWO: Most days it’s all I got to talk to.

Now I was in a fix. I had a desperate need to get outside to release the screams of laughter jammed up in my throat. But the characters in this drama had not discerned my presence, and most likely wouldn’t appreciate being acquainted with the fact at this stage.

ONE: That’s life when you get old. Good conversation is hard to come by.

OK, that’s it. I’m gone. Need to offload some humor before I can handle the next unexpected. The poor Trucker. I leave him with tears running down my cheeks, and return the same way, but for an entirely different reason. The man’s gonna get whiplash from his Passenger’s emotions.