Audition In Minneapolis

I’m driving to Minneapolis, I’ve got an audition for Proctor and Gamble at 4pm.  You gotta time it just right.  It’s about 3 hours 26 minutes from my house to the audition.  I leave around 11am, to give me enough time, room for bathroom breaks, and possible traffic problems.

I arrive at my destination at 3:15pm, get a good parking spot.  I’ve got a few things to do before my audition.  Work on the script a little bit more.  Change into a suit and tie from my sweats I’m wearing.  Grab my headshot from the back.

Hm.  All of a sudden, I’m feeling the need for a bathroom.  And not for numero one.  The other, more complicated, time-consuming one.  I don’t know the building I’m auditioning in, don’t know where the bathrooms are.  I check out the time.  It’s 3:18pm.  I’ve got some time.  I get on my phone, search for the nearest gas station.  Gotta love the smartphone.  Looks like there’s a Holiday Gas Station about 3 miles away.  Let’s do it.  I start driving.

Yes, halfway there, I realize this is a good and needed decision.  I don’t want to be auditioning, having to hold this in.  Gotta feel as good and free as possible.  A bathroom break beforehand is imperative.

I get to the Holiday gas station without incident.  I check the time.  Still good.  I get out of the car, and man, is it cold.  It’s gotta be about 3 degrees out.  Why do we do this?  I get in, look for the bathroom.  Back corner.  I walk through the aisles.  Maybe I’ll pick up a quick snack on my way out.

I get in the bathroom, there’s some weird dude at the sink, washing himself.  Not just his hands.  Looks like he’s using it for bathing purposes.  Whatever.  I look around, there’s one stall, and guess what?  It’s being used.  And it doesn’t sound pretty what’s going on in there.  Some grunts.  Sounds like the guy’s having some issues.

I wait.

And wait.

The guy that took his weekly bath in here takes off, leaving me alone.  Besides the faceless guy in the single stall.  And every time I think, ok, the guy’s winding things down with a flush, he keeps on going.  He’s on his 3rd flush.  Ok, do I make a sound?  Clear my throat?  Hey buddy, waiting out here, please hurry up.  And at this point, it’s becoming critical.  I’m looking over at the sink, getting ideas.  I breathe.  C’mon, dude, let’s make this happen.  FINALLY, a fourth flush, I hear him putting on his pants, and he exits.

He stops right at the door, says, do you need it?  No, bro, I just like hanging out in here!  I say, yes.  I do.  He says, I’m sorry.  There’s no more paper in there.

Oh GREAT.  What the hell?!?  I gotta deal with this?

Yes, I’ll be needing paper for this performance.

I think quickly.  I run out, look over at the counter.  There has got to be about ten people in line.  That’s not going to work.  It doesn’t look like they’ll be able to get me some toilet paper in a prompt timeframe.  Like RIGHT NOW.  What next?  I look over at the women’s room.  Oh, screw it.  I go to it, knock on the door.  As if someone would say, who is it?  I go in.  Luckily, it’s empty.  I run in the stall, start grabbing toilet paper.  I just keep on pulling and pulling, creating a pile.  Luckily again, as I reflect, it’s not one of those penny pinching toilet paper dispensers that’s so tight you can only get a square before it cuts off.  It’s conveniently loose, so I can speedily get a good supply.

I get a nice handful of glorious toilet paper, I make my exit, then run into the men’s room, and as if perfect/imperfect timing, the door to the stall closes with its next guest right when I enter.  What the hell?!?  The guy who had been in there, that I was waiting on, is at the sink, washing his hands.  He’s an old black guy, looks like an old jazz musician with worn fedora hat.  He says, hey!  Sorry!  There’s no toilet paper in there!  To the new tenant.  I’m standing there with a handful of toilet paper.  Thanks to Miles Davis and his 10 minute marathon shit session.  Yeah, I wonder why there’s no paper in there?  Probably because you went through a roll and a half!  Man!  I don’t have time for this.  What am I gonna do?  I exit the men’s room, see the women’s room door.  Yep.  Desperate times mean desperate measures.

I run in, and thank the Lord, it’s empty.  Let’s make this quick.  I sit down, and get to it.  I’m done in 14 seconds, and to my credit, use all the toilet paper I had collected for my previous scheme.

I finish up, wash my hands quickly, and exit.  What do you know, I make it out alive, without a female visitor.

I get back to the audition spot, get changed in my car, go over my lines quickly, and I’m ready to go, feeling good…

and free.

 

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