Wednesday, January 26, 2011
My Homies Wear Depends And Smell Like Mothballs.
Living at a marina is totally like living in a retirement home. All the homies are like... well - old. Older than I am anyways.
I take my daily shower at the pool since showering in the boat is a pain in the old buttocks (maybe I am older than I want to admit, yeah, sure...). Yesterday as I was skipping my way to the showers, I came to a slow crawl as some lady got to the door before me. So I had to slowly very slowly follow her in. She stopped when she sensed me "you are being followed" I chanted behind her. With a smile. But the smile was wasted on her behind.
She finally makes her way to the shower corridor. Finally. I'm dying behind her! And she opens the first stall and stands behind it. Okaaaaay... I start putting my stuff on the counter. And slowly wonder what it could possibly mean if she opens the door and stands behind it. Is she "reserving" that stall for herself? Am I supposed to walk around the door to one of the next stalls?
I'm new here, and I've never seen anything like this before! So, I do what any uncertain person would do: "Are using the first stall?". She shutters, or stutters, or whatever it was. "No I just want privacy!". Okaaaaaaay... I take my clothes off, pile it up on the counter because the bench is now off limits being blocked by the door to the 1st stall. I hang up my towel by my door and enter the shower. Close the door. Wonder if it's ok to close it since now she is exposed to whatever it was she wanted privacy from.
I'm in my shower taking my sweet ass time because that's what I do. I love long hot showers. It dawns on me that I still haven't heard my neighbor start her shower yet. But... whatever. Then IT happens: her hand is clutching my door. (oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I'm freaked out, what do I do???)
I stand frozen not knowing what the hell is happening. The shower door is one of those glazed over glass doors. Maybe it's Plexiglas, not important. What IS important is what she does next. She is still fully clothed and she is doing squats. Using my door for balance.
What the fuck? Where am I again?
Now I start taking even more time. Rinse. Apply again. Rinse. Condition. Leave in hair for 3-5 minutes. Pull out my cute little soap fuzzer thing (you should see it, it's a rubber ducky with a swim mask tied to a pooffer, I love it!) and pour some yummy smelling pink bubble gum soap on it (I know, this detail is not needed to the story, but if you ever do find some bubble gum smelling soap let me know, I want more of it and mine was a hotel sample).
By the time I am finally done she is still clutching and squatting. Up - down - up - down with her banana yellow t-shirt. What am I supposed to do? Yell out "watch your fingers" and slam the door open as I jump out and stand naked in front of her clamoring how privacy is so important to me too?
Really! WHAT is the public shower etiquette for old lady hanging on to your shower door as she does her morning exercises? Oh where is Martha Stewart when I need her? I slowly open the door, grab my towel and wrap it around me. (Sorry, no drawing for you... maybe next time) Take all my stuff out of the shower, and close the door. She huffs. Looks at me like I'm a total moron and a very rude one at that. And opens the door again. "My privacy! Remember?" And huffs again.
Not sure about the etiquette, but giggling in these situations? Totally unavoidable. Totally. Sorry Martha, you'd be astounded by my rudeness after you were done laughing at her too! Oh, and let me tell you I took even more time after that! By now this is fun as she is OBVIOUSLY waiting for me to leave before she unveils her spectacular self. Privacy-shmivacy! You know how long it takes to puff-daddy comb my hair? As I stand there with nothing but my towel and my day dreams? FOR-EV-FUCKIN-VER!
Now she is standing behind her glazed over glass or plexiglas door waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. As I crawl around. Heh heh heh. See? I can be totally devilish... I never did find out though if she took her shower or not. I got bored and left while totally repeating over and over in my head: " I will so blog about this tomorrow."