Every single thing I’m about to tell you is 100% true.  Always is, but this story is so crazy that I want you to be sure you understand it’s the honest to God’s truth.

It was approximately 107 degrees in Chicago over the weekend.  Tony and I went to the Cubs game; our first experience at Wrigley Field (it was fantastic, by the way except they could turn the heat down just a smidge). As we were melting there, Tony said, “You know?  On days like today you could spend all day drinking something and never have to go to the bathroom.  You’d just sweat it out.”.

Sounded like an actual possibility to me.  Since I really needed to stay hydrated (I had a terrible situation at a football game once, where I was NOT hydrating and . . . well, let’s just say that those people are still talking about me), I started chugging the water.  Like a chipmunk stores nuts?  I was collecting water.

That was nuts.

While walking to find a taxi on the way out, I felt like there might be a problem.  I kept thinking, man, maybe I should have zipped to the toilet one more time, but there’s the cab. About two minutes into the Ride of the Autobahn with the WORST cabbie in the history of cabs, I KNEW there was a wee bit of a problem.  I began to wonder if my bladder would hold.  I was confident it would not. I shift this way and that way.  It’s getting worse.  Not better.  Of course, Mr. Ali Kashim finds every single red light there is.  Instead of whizzing it through the yellows like I THINK he should be doing, he waits until he’s right up on the line and then SLAMSONHISBRAKES.

Oh.  That’s not helpful Kashim.

He repeats this behavior for every stop sign on Washbash as well.  For the love of all things Charmin, KASHIM.

I see the hotel and I get excited.

Mistake.

Kashim nearly hits a mid-sized SUV at the corner of Wabash and Washington.  They both sit in the middle of the intersection making hand gestures at each other for a bit.

Kashim mumbles along a bit of something I can’t understand, but I think it was “mom let’s me drive slow on the driveway”.

The hotel moves closer, but guess what?   A car is trying to, ever so slowly, back into a space. So here we are waiting for that Doofus to remember every bit of parallel parking from their 1989 drivers ed course.

Just let me out here, Kashim. I CAN WADDLE BACK.

Finally we whirl into the hotel.  Tony is trying to swipe the card to pay.  “Flip it around this way.  No, it’s a chip.  No.  Wait.  Turn it upside down….”

GOOD LORD JUST THROW THE MONEY AT HIM!

I NEED OUT OF THIS CAR RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND!

I wobble to the bathroom in the lobby just in time to hear . . . ??

. . . the door click locked.  Occupied.  Taken.  Full.

Just. Like. Me.

All I can think is whoa, urine trouble now, Melissa.

I hear a mom inside talking to her toddler.  OMG.  Is she potty training at this very moment?  Let me in.  I’ll show you how to do it.

Forget this.  I figure it would be quicker and less painful to just ride the elevator up 27 stories to the room.  I walk around to meet Tony and the elevator is drowning with people.

THERE IS CURRENTLY A WAIT TIME AT THE ELEVATOR.

Is this even real life right now or is this Candid Camera?

Now I’m suffering through 4 stops on the elevator while one woman talks to another about her Husky miniature Pomeranian mix.  Just think about that for a second.  How does that even happen?

We finally make it to Floor 27 and I look at Tony to ask if he’s got to go, too.  He says no.  THANK GOD.

Guess where our room is?  ALLLLL the way at the end of the hall.

Because why wouldn’t it be?

And what is on our door when we finally get to it?

A lovely tag that says “your room is being serviced”.

Dear Jesus who is the Goodness of Bladders?  Because Imma bout to call on her.

We go in anyway because I’m thinking she’s nearly done.  Why do I think that?  Because she said the words “I’m nearly done”.  Turns out “nearly done” is the same as “this is going to take 47 years”.

Wanna know what’s going on in the bathroom?

The water is running.

Full blast.

Because OF COURSE it is.

(Is this story not dripping with irony?)

I figure that walking back to the elevator to the crowded lobby would be too painful so I decided to wait it out.

Or wade it out.  Whatever.

It is literally taking this woman FOREVER to clean a bathroom that is ALREADY CLEAN. I promise you that it’s not dirty because WE are the very ones who used it last.  YOU JUST CLEANED IT YESTERDAY, WOMAN!

After several, SEVERAL, minutes she emerges from the bathroom and I ask if she’s all done in there.  She mumbles something and then walks out saying she will be right back.  Basically saying, “Just hold it a second”.  Oh honey, you have no idea.

Well, she wasn’t “right back”.  Her supplies are scattered everywhere .

I’m thinking I can weeble wobble in there and just GO ALREADY before she returns, but when I go in I see that the reason she left was to get toilet paper.

>>THISCLOSE<< BUT NO PAPER?!

What have I done to deserve this?  I don’t even know, but I can pinky promise you that it will NEVER happen again.

What is taking her so long to get toilet paper?!  Is she at Walgreens right now?!

I am truly and completely balled up on the floor and rolling at this point.

I am not laughing.

Tony is.

The lady comes back in with the toilet paper.

And water bottles.

WATER BOTTLES.  OH THE IRONY IS FLOWING LIKE . . . something.

What in the heck?  I do not need 6 complimentary water bottles at this point.  I am trying to GET RID OF THE WATER not 6 more.  That would equal TEN WATER BOTTLES.  That is nine and a half too many.

She must’ve been new to paper towel rollers because it seemed to take her 26 minutes to get it back right on the wall.

I am relieved to finally get in there.

Praise Jesus and Aquafina.

As I am turning around to flush, guess what I see right between the toilet and the sink?

THE EXTRA ROLL OF TOILET TICKETS THAT WAS THERE THE WHOLE TIME.

THE.  WHOLE.  TIME.

She gathers her things.  I walk across our room and sit down with my back to the door. I hear her close it.

I then yell the following words to my giggling husband, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? THERE WAS A FREAKING ROLL OF PAPER IN THERE THE WHOLE TIME!!”

I am not confident that I said “freaking”.

I AM confident that she DID close the door.  But she was INSIDE the room when she did.

Oops.

That probably pissed her right off.