When Ya Gotta Go . . .

During the wedding reception on Saturday, eventually I needed to leave the table to find the restroom. When I found it, I saw a sign just like the one to the left and in front of it, the dreaded line.

But what was very, very odd, was that all of the people in the line were men.

Bewildered, I glanced around. Another woman asked, "Are you looking for the ladies room? It's right there." She pointed to an unmarked door. I opened it to find a large, lovely ladies room, with about five stalls, a large counter with sinks and places for touch-up, a comfy chair, and a basket of amenities. No crowd. No line. No crossed legs. No nothing, except a couple of nicely-dressed women exchanging pleasantries, and the mother of the bride, who gave me a hug.

We were at the Women's Civic Club in Stone Harbor, New Jersey. The women's civic club.

Aha!

And when I left the ladies room, that long line of men was still there. The same ones!

Did my heart good, I tell you. Did my heart good.