The Game of Chicken in a Bathroom Stall

I’m not a daredevil by nature. I refused to ever take a dare from other kids when I was younger. I always opted for Truth when playing Truth or Dare. Only once did I fall prey to the peer pressure of the constant bantering to take the Dare on this game and ended up, red-faced, nibbling on some dudes ear. Eww, never again.

“I’d like to know what’s behind curtain number one, two AND three please before I give up what’s in the envelope in my hand” (game show reference).

And despite knowing monsters don’t exist (well, except for the MIL that lives with me), and that no one will truly be slashing in to me with a chainsaw in one of those haunted houses; the mere thought of someone or something jumping out at me will stop me dead in my tracks even before getting to the front door. “I’ll just wait for you guys right here, where it’s safe”. 

So I find myself in quite the quandary when I sense I’m being forced into a sorts of Game of Chicken in a public bathroom stall (in this case, the only 2-stall ladies room on our office floor). For those that don’t know, the principle of the game is that while each player (interpretation: stall mates) prefer not to yield to the other, the worst possible outcome occurs when both players do not yield.

Honestly, I know neither of us fancy the idea of being there in the first place. We all recoil at the thought of having to do more than just taking a quick pee in such a tight spot, with only a tissue thin wall separating the players. Yes, that’s how I view it because wouldn’t you know it, that I’ve had actual, wake up in a sweat nightmares, even into adulthood, about this wall. And in the depths of my nightmare, this wall is ALWAYS missing just at the precise moment of when nature calls.

But this game HAS to be played because neither of us can be in there at the same time for the same purpose. We’re not that close. I don’t share this time with anyone, not even at home. (It’s a side of me that my husband will never ever know. Ever!). I don’t know who exactly is looming behind that wall. Our office stalls don’t allow for a peek of the challenger’s shoe, which if it did, the idea of being identified would surely have them scurrying off with a paper trail in their dust. And the dread of being caught, they’d forgo the 20 point hand wash portion of the event.

But now, we just sit. We sit and wait. Wait to see who can hold off the longest. We monitor our breathing. Some opponents believe that making some type of movement will break me down. A foot tap here, a paper crumble sound there, and an occasional flush. (I must confess, at times I too have used these same strategies).

I maintain my stance. I’m not here for amusement you know. I actually have a purpose. And although I’m sure you do too, it’s the one game, the one dare, the one challenge that I will face, head on. But be careful, weary opponent, that there are some things that I cannot control. You risk getting to know me a little too well. 

I do apologize, my dear reader, for now I know I’ve made you a bit uncomfortable. But admit it, come clean, you’ve played this game as well. And unknowingly, you may, perhaps have challenged me before.

 In the rapid speech delivery of “Motormouth” John Moschitta:
***(When playing, please make sure to adhere to all proper stall etiquette. If more than two stalls, leave one in between. The more space between opponents the better. If both parties choose to remain on course, please make sure to adhere to all flushing etiquette. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about).

Movie Trivia:
Griff: What's wrong, McFly? Chicken?
Marty: What did you say, Griff?
Griff: Chicken, McFly.
Marty: Nobody calls me chicken.


(Please MEMORIZE this)

image courtesy of blogspot
image courtesy of blogspot

— Elke



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