I accidentally spent 40 minutes in the boys’ bathroom


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I accidentally spent 40 minutes in the boys’ bathroom

Time moves slowly when you’re afraid for your life

It’s a typical Monday afternoon. I leave lecture after getting let out of class early, and I figure I should use the bathroom since I have thirty minutes before my next class. As I’m climbing up the hill towards the student union, it hits me. I really, really have to pee. My lax meander quickly turns into a brisk power walk.

It’s 1:50

As I enter the building, I bolt down the hallway past classrooms and turn the corner towards the bathrooms. I push open the door and run into the handicapped restroom. As I’m doing my business and checking Instagram on my phone, I hear a startling noise. A full stream, right outside my stall. And then another. And then another. I build up the courage to peak through the crack of the stall, and there they are. Three dudes using the urinals.

It’s now 2:10

I’ve been in the bathroom for roughly ten minutes.


As if they’re on a never-ending loop, guys keep flooding the bathroom. I sit on the toilet contemplating my escape, but see no end in sight. The next class doesn’t begin until 2:30.


Time moves slow when you’re stuck in the men’s room afraid for your life. When I look at my phone and realize only 5 minutes have gone by, a single tear rolls down my cheek (metaphorically speaking, any ways).


After three “Omg dude you were so wild this weekend” bro conversations, I realize I should text my friend Katie who is probably wondering where the hell I am.




I start giving myself a motivational pep talk. Only five more minutes Hannah! Then they’ll stop coming in and you can break out of this prison! But alas, my mental conversation is gracefully interrupted by some dude hocking up a loogie whilst taking a piss. This is when my metaphorical tears became real.


What I thought would be my saving grace turned out to be even more of a nightmare. I figured guys would stop flooding in at 2:30, but I was surely mistaken. More and more continue to come in. I take out a highlighter, and begin to write my will. I know I will die here.


After some deep breaths, motivational text messages from friends and a lot of soul searching, I muster up the courage to make my escape.


I grab my book bag, and Usain Bolt out of the men’s bathroom. I keep my head down and practically run to my lecture, which I am ultimately 15 minutes late for.


The moral of the story is, if you’re ever feeling like your Monday isn’t going the way you hoped, just remember you weren’t the idiot girl who spent forty minutes in the boy’s bathroom.


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