To the woman with the shiny black flats: I do so sincerely apologize for commenting on your business.
I came down with a cold Sunday evening. By Tuesday afternoon, my nose was behaving like a fountain. I escaped from my class upstairs in Melrose Hall before my nose had the chance to embarrass me in front of everyone — and my professor was sitting next to me.
I headed downstairs to tend to my nose and grab some more tissue rations from the restroom to take back upstairs with me. Automatically, I assumed I was alone inside the women’s room and I said, “Whooo, it stinks in here!”
The comment was intended to be heard by one person — me. But once I grasped the stall door handle and couldn’t pull it toward myself, I
realized three things: One, I had company; two, she was behind the door I was trying to open; and three, she heard what I said.
I know — embarrassing. But who takes the prize for that one, me or her? I didn’t have time to rationalize whose cheeks should have been more red. I grabbed some toilet tissue and high-tailed it back up to class. I couldn’t stop laughing.
True, I was mortified when it happened, especially since the girl in the stall was banking on having a few moments of privacy (despite being inside of a ladies room located in a building in which a large amount of ladies work), and there I was, interrupting with my boorish aside.
I had to tell myself that there was a chance that she wasn’t offended because she wasn’t responsible for the cause of my comment, and it wasn’t as if I said, “Hey, you in the bathroom. You stink!” Although I did, in a way.
I was laughing at my immediate and apparent embarrassment and the possibility of hers. All I could think of was the sound of my boots hitting the linoleum and the door closing behind me. I ran even after I was safely out of the bathroom. I felt as if my speedy exodus would somehow make up for my rather public announcement of the restroom’s state of being. I’m pleased that no one else was in another stall.
I gave it some thought and I laughed some more because I realized that women are very particular about where they conduct their business. Some women will walk farther than necessary to accommodate their privacy needs or will often, as I have heard in several conversations, wait until they get home to, well, produce.
Sometimes you have to get in there and push past being uncomfortable, but I understand that there are women who seclude themselves as a public service.
I’m not trying to put my nose into another woman’s business literally. I like my privacy, too, but it sure tickled me to realize how, as women, we have particular

Copy chief/Septembre Russell can be reached at [email protected].