After the movie my husband and I went to see had ended, I felt the effects of my Bladder Buster soda working, and found my way to the theatre’s ladies room.
As I enter, I hear a woman’s voice talking loudly, and I see entering one of the stalls a perky, fashionably dressed little chatterbox of a princess. I think nothing of it, and assume she is speaking to a friend in the next stall or something. Not my style, but none of my business, either. I just have to pee.
So I find an empty stall easily enough, since the washroom is almost deserted, save for me, the princess, and whoever her silent friend is…
As I am getting my little paper toilet seat positioned just so (as I am a princess in my own right, just of a quieter sort and who dislikes the “hover” position), the Chatterbox Princess speaks louder, and I realise that her silent friend is actually her cellphone. Wow. Well, once again, not my style, but none of my business. I take care of my own business and try to ignore the one-sided conversation blaring from a few stalls down.
However, as I am getting myself pulled together again, I overhear Chatterbox Princess anyway, and since she doesn’t seem to care who hears, I just give up and allow the words into my head:
“It’s not like they’ve got any money.” Pause. “God, what is it with you? They’re not like us. You act as if they are so classy!”
And at the perfect moment, even though I am not a fan of bathroom humour, it took all I could not to laugh aloud when, the second she finished her sentence, she let out a loud, resounding,* trumpeting*, hideous fart.
The echoing washroom falls suddenly still and silent.
“I’ll call you back.” Snap.
I stood frozen in my stall, eyes watering, cheeks red, and waited for her to finish up and bolt out of there.
So that is the sound of true class.