2'. o'.'«-‘iv’.-.~"--"o":f»'. 5'3’. 5'1 fez-1 ‘ r  * ~  = 

.noNo-Mm! INN
JEFFEKSONVILLE, \/T
802-644--2937

ROMANTIC GET-AWAY 5P€CIAL~r

* 2 NIGHT ST}\‘/ ?3O?\T\A/0 IN THE )-.-ICALLISTEK SUITE
\I\/ITH ?lKEi’L2\C€ l\ND J}=\CUZZl
* !N~ROOM FULL BODY fV\/‘«x.SS»‘\.I.§E S‘./’ A CERTIFIED IHEK/RPIST
‘PRIVATE KE$EK\’?x‘Cl0N IN OUP\ OLJIDOOF». HOT TUB
* A DOZEN KOSES, CH}\M!’/\C_N€ RN!) CHOCOLATES!
" FULL COU?\JV\ET ‘Si-’\E2\KF}~.SI' E2‘-\CH DAY

(~NI<'r€P(&5.~ MARY souvmr. &. Mam)». DONOVAN
wet. '\//‘.v’v;‘.lJO?50?~\>».F.iNN.iOM .>« . x')»’::‘«'<‘M?-.Z.lNE::?V£FJ:f.O:J :m
in z;-.srz> »..~r<;v.; .'..v>/.n.;-...=

 

M llllt ill “I! llllllllltlllli l FEBRUARY 2006 l MOUNTAlNPR|DEMED|A.ORG

Woman-Stirred
Radio

t_h_e_ Premier
GLBTQ Radio Show

Hosted by Merry Gangemi

Interviews with GLBTQ
writers, poets,
musicians and artists
from Vermont...
and the rest
of the world.

WGDR
91.1 FM
Goddard College

Stream it live at
www.wgdr.org

FIRSTPERSON BY NAT MICHAEL

///////I//////////////////////////flWflflflflflflflflflflflflfl

Butch Bathr

Pee-ing in Pub|ic.P|ac'es

s a middle—aged, garden-
A variety butch dyke, 1

have my collection of
bathroom_tales. I’m never ques-
tioned while in one with a femmy
friend. -But going solo can be an-
other thing all together. My M.O.
is in/out, with an occasional,
“Yes, you’re in the right one,”
when a woman stands gawping
in the doorway.

Burlington’s Fletcher Allen
‘Hospital has several lobby rest-
rooms I’ve used for years while
driving for human resource agen-
cies.One time while rubbing my
hands under the dryer this wom-
an timidly walked in. Her head
was down and she was clutching
her purse to her chest. Raising
her gaze she gasped, “Oh! I am
SO sorry!” and she scuttled out
again before I could say anything.
She had a row of fresh stitches
over one eye. I dashed after the
poor thing and found her stand-
ing, bewildered, looking at the
other door, marked MEN. She
gratefully let me escort her back.
I hoped the rest of her day went
much, much better.

Montreal’s Trudeau Airport
has the women's and men’s side
by side with a common entrance.
Running in to make a quick pit
stop, a business type in his three-
piece suit veered in my direction
and fell in step right behind me.
Decisions made in these mo-
ments are a ratio of embarrass-
ment to urgency. Urgency won.
Ijust plowed ahead to a stall. I
could see him in the mirrors as
he came to a dead stop, so obvi-
ously surrounded by — women!
They all stared at him as he slow-

ly turned round, mouth open in
disbelief. I almost felt bad about

   
  

it, but was more relieved I hadn't
been called Monsieur.

The story ends wit.h us coming
out opposite doors at exactly the
same moment — wouldn’t you just
know it‘?! He came to a dead stop

VOICE: "Sir!!

That's the Ladies’
Bathroom!!" It
was one of the
Statehouse guards
in his immaculate
green uniform.
The chase was on.

again. I fled into the terminal.

At a London Pub called The
Bishop In Residence, a tall fellow
in a camelhair coat and I nodded
our matching_Harris tweed caps
at each other and courteously
held open doors. He went to the
right to the pub. I went to the left
to the 100. As I pushed on the
door I heard a clatter and bellow
on the stairs.‘“Oy!Oy! That‘s the
lasses’!!” But by then I was in,
with him following close behind
to catch my arm, and I heard him
choke when he realized that he’d
crossed the final threshold and it
was all pink tiles.

Back in the pub, I wouldn’t
have recognized him without his
coat and cap, sitting with his_mis—
sus — except for his beetroot-red
face. I considered sending over
a pint, but wasn't sure about the
etiquette for the situation.

My favorite is still the wom-
en's bathroom at the Vermont
Statehouse in the downstairs
hall. It was the second round

////////////////////WW/flflflflflfl/W/W/flflflfl/flflflfl/flflflfl

oom Blues

of Civil Union hearings. We had
all been on edge for so long-
now. And the place was rapidly
filling up. My immediate goals
were bathroom and a seat in the

V balcony. Focused, Ipushed on

the bathroom door. There was a

commotion far away. I turned my ” '

head. Down the other end of that
long, elegantly carpeted hallway
was a frantic Voice: “Sir!! That’s
the Ladies’ Bathrooml!” So close,

"I almost leaned my head against

the door. It was one of the State-
house guards in his immaculate
green uniform. The chase was

on. I watched his green hat bob-
bing and weaving through the
expanding crowd.

I debated. The long drive in the

snow, nerves on edge, that big trav-
el mug of tea. I watched the geen
hat. He was closing in. Some of the
throng were taking an interest. I
considered the possibilities for a
real comedy routine with the big-
gest audience ever. And more were
spilling in with each swing and icy
blast of the outer doors. I finally
just turned around and waited as
he made his sprint to the finish. He
pulled up short in front of me so I
was able to watch him try to take
in a deep breath at the same time
as he was realizing that I was at
the right bathroom. His face! He
breathlessly began apologizing,
very embarrassed, very red, very
gracious, very aware of our little
sideshow. Impulsively I put my
hands on his shoulders and said in
all sincerity, “This is going to hap-
pen ALL evening!’ We got a laugh
from the audience. I peed. The rest
you know. V

a Nat Michael lives in Underhill.