I stood before the two doors, entrances to the restrooms at a small café known as The White Dog and felt like I was watching a tennis match.
I looked at the left door. Then the right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left.
How in the hell was I supposed to know which one was the men’s room?
Both had a painting of a dog.
To my left, a big white dog with brown spots. Pointers, it said. Pointers? That’s probably for the men, right?
The other side a mostly white dog, similar enough to the other that I really couldn’t be sure. Setters, it said. Setters? That’s close enough to sitters, right? And women sit on the toilet no matter what…so…
I had no idea what to do. I could go with my gut since a peeing guy would definitely be considered a pointer. But what if I was wrong? And not only did I go in there, use the bathroom, spot whatever sort of feminine stuff was usually in a bathroom and then as I attempt to discreetly leave find a woman waiting to use it? I’d be so busted!
I checked the lower half of the paintings, hoping for some sort of doggie parts that might answer my question. No luck. I would have to take a chance.
I opened the pointers door and relaxed as I saw that the seat was not down.