December is a tough month to travel in. This isn't because of icy road conditions or deep snowdrifts. It's because of the heavy coat I have to wear. Only someone who needs assistance in the restroom can fully appreciate why that is.
Without getting specific, I need some help when I go to the bathroom. Somebody, sometimes my brother Todd, but usually my dad, has to be with me during the whole operation. Between my dad and I, we probably weigh 500 pounds and stand thirteen feet high. We need lots of room!
Thanks be to God for the handicapped stalls found in most public bathrooms today in America, which have room for both my helper and me. Let me tell you of our five hundred pound adventures, experienced in bathrooms everywhere.
Under the door of a toilet stall can usually be seen one pair of feet. In my stall are seen four feet. Heads are normally only seen briefly above a stall's walls. My helper's head is always seen above my stall's walls while waiting to assist me and my head joins the view at the start and end of each visit. I sometimes make strange noises, not by design but by accident, due to my autism. These out of the ordinary restroom sights and sounds catch people's attention.
In an empty (except for my dad and I) highway rest stop in Pennsylvania, I was peacefully sitting and doing my business in the handicapped stall while Dad stood patiently, waiting for me to finish. His head could clearly be seen above the wall of the stall, which was furthest from the restroom door. I saw Dad look towards the door. He had a puzzled expression. Finally, I saw a male face appear over the wall of the next door stall. When this man saw me sitting there, total shock swept over his face. He ran back out of the restroom door. Dad gradually realized what that man had hoped to see instead of me. His face got very red.
Another time my dad's face grew red was on the campus of Anderson University. We were attending the Anderson Church of God state youth convention. This time we were in the handicapped stall of a very busy restroom in Reardon Auditorium. I yelled out a strange noise as I often do. Soon, a security man was knocking on the door of our stall, demanding to know what was happening in there. We came out and Dad tried to explain. The more he said, the more skeptical the security man grew, the more interested the people around us turned, the more red Dad's face became and the more autistic I acted. In the end our accuser retreated in confusion, and later, realizing his mistake, came and visited me for a chat.
Funny now, but not funny then, are some of the experiences we have had because someone else was already using the handicapped stall. Squeezing both of us into one normal sized stall is next to impossible. Men's rooms are usually crowded at highway rest stops, providing lots of curious eyes when unusual things happen. My antics can often catch people's attention.
Once, the door to our too small stall had a broken latch. Every time Dad tried to help me, his derriere would bump the door and it would pop open, leaving me open to everyone's perusal. Dad would yank the door shut, but it would soon happen again. By the time I was done, it seemed like half of the guys in the rest room had had a view of the inside of my stall.
Even when I am done and out of the stall, I can be a source of entertainment. Any hot air hand dryer is irresistible to me. I'll hit the button and enjoy the hot air on my hands. If I can, I'll turn on every dryer in the room at once, so I can also enjoy their combined noise. If Dad doesn't watch me closely enough and the row of urinals are parallel to the stalls and close to them also, I may dash along the row of urinals, nudging each user into the urinal as I pass. As Dad apologizes to the angry and wet bathroom clients, they show little willingness to come around to the understanding that I didn't mean to bump them, but was just running around.
Changing back from embarrassing moments to my first statement about winter clothes, even in a handicapped stall, two bundled up people don't fit very well. The choice is between leaving the coats in the car while dashing to the rest stop or not fitting in the stall. We usually choose the cold. If only I could also choose to always have an empty bathroom except for my helper and me, maybe I could avoid all of these other complications too.