There was lady singing in the bathroom stall
yesterday on campus and I was not
entirely sure how I felt about the matter.
Between classes, I entered the
restroom and found it to be quite
crowded with Ugg-booted
leggings-clad young ladies,
a few who were waiting for their turn,
others at the sinks or
mirrors, washing hands or checking
hair and make-up, standard for
any day. But then I noticed a lone
voice, wafting up from one of the
pairs of feet in a stall, singing
a meandering and
aimless melody. I resisted the
urge to look incredulously
into the eyes of the others in proximity to me, but no one else seemed fazed.
Is this even for real?
The lack of direction of her tune
bothered me the most for some
reason – “Oh, When the Saints
Go Marching In” would have been
somehow less disconcerting.
I try to be a person whose
outlook is consistent with such
things as random bursts of
song and other displays of joy,
but this seemed somehow indulgent
excessive
and borderline insane. It went on from
the time I entered until the time I
left, ceaselessly.
It filled me with no joy, only
irritation and confusion.
Somebody is showboating their nice day
or their healthy bowel movement? I speculated.
Was it some kind of dare?
I realize my reaction may say more about
me than it did about the singing,
pooping woman, as things
tend to do. Have I lost
sight of my ability to find
fun in the random and insignificant
parts of my day?
Or
was it just another case of someone
straddling the razor-thin
line between joyous and
obnoxious?
I finished drying my hands and
went to class.
ettybetty 