Sometimes it’s not good to wait too long. Then you end up rushing without thinking clearly. Today is one of those days.

I’m sitting at a table while my husband does his rehab. I’m half-listening to a few women talking. One woman is sharing her story and is right in the middle. I need to excuse myself, but I don’t want to interrupt her. She mentions each and every detail, and I’m afraid if I wait much longer, it will be too late…if you know what I mean.

But she’s taking too long. I just want to climb in her mouth and pull out the rest of her words.

But I smile politely. You know that smile, don’t you? Like when you notice someone has something in their teeth but you pretend not to see it.

She finally takes a breath. So I ask, “Where is the bathroom?”

“It’s just two doors down that hallway,” someone calls out.

Now some people say I am gullible. My Uncle Steve used to tell me that all the time. Like the day he came over and said, “You gotta’ see this. And reaching his cigarette stained fingers into his pocket, he pulled out a shiny new dime.

“Do you know where I got this?” he asked.

And my five-year-old eyes opened wide with wonder, “Where?”

And he had me. Uncle Steve continued slowly, “I found it in a white rock outside in your backyard. It wasn’t a shiny rock, but one like this.” And he shows me a little white rock.

“All I did was crack the rock open, and that’s where I saw the dime.”

I’m sure I gasped. I did that a lot when Uncle Steve told me stories.

So I quickly ran down the steps of Grandpa’s house and out to the backyard, to find my own fortune. Lucky for us we had about a million rocks like that in the back yard. And no one but me and Uncle Steve knew about the dimes. And I wasn’t telling anyone.

One hour turned into two, and then three. Finally, I trudged upstairs without finding one thin dime. When I saw Uncle Steve, I thought for sure he’d give me his. But instead, he chuckled.

Uncle Steve did a lot of chuckling when he came to see us, especially me, for some reason.

Yes, there were times I was gullible. Like another time when my dad let us play with two rabbits. He told us they were ours. So I named them, The Lone Ranger and Tonto. The Lone Ranger was a huge white rabbit I’d carry around for hours. And Tonto was white with big brown spots on him.

I loved those rabbits as much as a five year old can love anything. But one day when I went down to feed them, they were gone.

My dad told me I must have left the gate open and they hopped away. But years later, I found out they were never really my pets, but Grandpa was getting them chubby because he was selling them in his grocery store.

Things are different now. If another adult gives me directions, I follow them. Adults know what they’re talking about. Right?

Pushing the restroom door open, I quickly run inside the stall, and hook the door.

Getting myself situated for the task at hand, I hear a voice. And being a Grandma of five, I quickly recognize it is a child.

The child asks for help. But then I hear a man’s voice. It startles me.

I decide to wait inside the stall for the time being.

Didn’t he know he was in the women’s restroom? They have little pictures outside.

I am getting nervous, because I’m not sure when he’s coming out and I need to just get out of there.

So I open the door and run to the sink to quickly wash up. But as I grab some paper towels to dry my dripping hands I realize something is very different.

There against the wall, is a urinal. Not one, but actually three. And one of them is occupied. But wait there’s more. It happens to be occupied by my husband’s rehab trainer.

If I could just get to the door without him seeing me.

A couple more steps and I’ll be free. Just. Two. Steps.

But alas, he looks up.

With a stupid grin on my face, because I’m not sure what kind of grin a woman should wear when she’s standing in a men’s bathroom.

I finally break the silence, and say, “Hi.”

I don’t want to seem rude.

Finally, I’m pushing the door open to freedom.

In a matter of seconds, I’m back at the table with the women. Strangely, I find I have nothing to say.

I wish I could find someone to blame, anyone, but I come up empty.

The woman who is talking smiles at me and I just sit there, trying to erase the last ten minutes of my life.

And here comes the trainer.

Once again, I grin like an idiot, and hold my breath.

Will he talk about this? Should I mention it?

No. At least not now.

Finally I exhale. I will not share my story. It would be humiliating. Better to just let it be. After all, I didn’t see anything.

I did come to a conclusion though. From now on…I will look at pictures and stop asking for directions.

Oh, and no more running to the restroom, no matter what.

This article was previously published on medium.com