Always check for toilet paper. Especially when using a public bathroom. For females, you're reaction is, "Duh. Like everyone knows that." Well, I failed to do so last night and my pride paid dearly.
Number 2 is something I don't do in public restrooms. There's just something about the comfort of your own home that will cause men to put up with extreme amounts of stomach boiling and intestine churning dementia just to get to the home throne.
Through dinner my stomach folded over about five times. I held out until I couldn't risk an accident any longer. But it wasn't until I was through that I realized the twelve-inch reel of TP was empty. How can a twelve inch roll ever run out? Don't they last like sixty-two years? Seeing an empty roll is so rare, I felt I'd like discovered a unicorn.
My mind instantly processed the possibilities. Fight or flight: 1) Pull up the pants and run out, and let the wife catch up, 2) Use the shorts as TP and leave them in the trash, 3) Scurry around the bathroom and look for a substitute, or 4) just wait for help. Could I really subject myself to this low and ask for help? Of course I could.
Bless his kind heart, I could feel his empathy as soon as I asked if there were towels or something that I could use. No there wasn't, but he would do me the favor in finding someone that held the keys to the TP store room, which only gets opened once every sixty-two years. A few moments later (I've lost track of time at this point.), staff brought a brand new roll. I knocked of the dust and hurriedly finished and sheepishly went back to our table, with what was left of my pride in tow.