Doing Business at your Friedly Kangaroo

"'Doing Business at Your Friendly Kangaroo"

My daughter has chronic health issues that have led our family on some pretty interesting trips to medical destinations near and far. While we continue the pursuit of a unifying diagnosis, she has adopted an approach of “laughter is the best medicine” and tries to take one day at a time.

Sometimes, those days find us on the road and out of our minds.

Our family of four set out for Mayo Clinic in Rochester, MN one late October afternoon. We stopped for dinner, drove a bit, then nature called and we pulled into the next quick stop. Katie headed directly to the ladies’ room while her brother, dad and I browsed the aisles.

We immersed ourselves in shopping, beginning with a rack of tee shirts emblazoned with biker motifs and state logos. We moved onto the candy section, followed by the chips and crackers. We checked out the hot bar, the coffee station, the ice cream freezer, and the automotive supplies.

After 20 minutes or so had passed and we were reduced to second-guessing our snacking selections, I surmised things might not be going so well in the bathroom. Just then, my cell phone vibrated in my purse. As I made my way to the bathroom, I extracted my phone and noted the incoming caller.

It was Katie.

“Why is she calling from the bathroom?” I asked myself. “This can’t be good.”
I pictured the possible scenarios in my head: out of toilet paper, massive regurgitation, explosive diarrhea or a treacherous combination of all three. Who knew what lay on the other side of that restroom door? I answered the phone.

“Hey, girl, what’s going on in there?”

“MOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM! FINALLY! WHY DIDN’T ANYBODY ANSWER THEIR STUPID PHONE? GEEZE, I THOUGHT Y’ALL HAD LEFT ME!”

Somehow, this high-decibel screech comforted me. She was breathing. She was conscious. And she was some kind of mad. Bravely, I motioned to the others that I was going in.

“Whoa. Calm down. I’m on my way in there. Are you OK?”

“Just get in here! Hurry up!” And with that, the phone went dead.

I was just past the oatmeal cakes and Ho Ho’s, almost to the nuts and pork rinds, when an unsuspecting woman cut in front of me and headed toward the sign marked “WOMEN.”

My mind raced as I considered the very real possibility that this gal might soon be rendered completely senseless by noxious fumes or worse, but I was helpless to stop her. She heaved the door inward, and what appeared to be a vacuous hole of pitch black darkness suddenly erupted into a glowing cubicle of searing white light.

In that split second, the ears of every creature within a ten-mile radius would splinter with the guttural boom that echoed from the confines of a single bathroom stall in a Kangaroo quick stop near Memphis, TN.

“THANK YOU!!!”

I would have loved to see the expression on that woman’s face upon her triumphal entry, but she ducked for cover in the stall next to Katie’s before I could gauge her reaction. What I did see was a completely benign bathroom environment, remarkably clean, actually. Thankfully, it smelled harmlessly like lemon cleaner. What I heard was far more sinister.

My daughter doesn’t cuss, but the blend of growls and pitches behind that metal door sounded much like the kind of muffled swearing grown-ups use in the presence of children and clergy, indecipherable but clearly not born of happy thoughts and well wishes.

“Katie, are you OK?”

“YES, NOW THAT I CAN SEE WHAT I AM DOING, YES. I AM JUST FINE.”

This was followed by several spins of the toilet paper dispenser, more grumbling and the type of telltale noises that make a mom know her services are no longer needed. I waited outside.

A few minutes later, the girl child emerged. Anyone with female adolescent offspring can testify to the fact that when they are ticked off, you best give them plenty of time and space to decompress. The problem in this particular scenario is that we were all about to crawl into a minivan together and finish what was left of a 20 hour drive to the northern limits of these expansive United States.

“Geeze, Katie, what took so long?” her brother asked.

To which she replied, “Grrrrrrrrr.”

But, to her credit, the outrageous circumstances evoked appropriate hilarity on her part, and within minutes, we were all laughing like a bunch of baboons on a big banana high.

Apparently, this particular bathroom came equipped with an energy-saving sensor that turned out the lights when no movement is detected after a certain period of time. Maybe five minutes or so into her bathroom retreat, it all went to black.

“You try doing what you need to do on the toilet when you can’t even see your hand in front of your face!” she spat.

She had called us, and we didn’t answer because two phones were in the van and one was on “vibrate” in my purse. So her only safe option was to wait in the dark on the pot wondering why her family had abandoned her.

All’s well that ends well, but I have to wonder what that woman thought when she was welcomed with such vigorous and appreciative cheers as she entered the bathroom. Perhaps she chalked it up to superior customer service--a big “thank you” for “doing business” at your friendly Kangaroo.