The Powder Room

It was the kind of night where you research creative eyeshadow techniques.

Red lipstick. 

Black dress. 

New shoes. 

Perfume. 

I stepped out of the bathroom to find my husband looking as dapper as ever in his suit. He still opens the car door for me, and I still get a little shy when he smiles at me that way. As we drove into the city, it was the first day all week where it didn't rain. From the Bay Bridge, it was clear for as far as the eye could see. (And these were my very well made up eyes, too!) 

We valet parked, and walked a block to the Four Seasons. I knew that everybody on Market Street could see what an enchanting life I was leading, what with my handsome husband and well put together ensemble. My husband decisively pushed the golden elevator button, and had me seated before the wedding began. The wedding was beautiful, and my husband conducted it with eloquence, romance, humor, and sentiment. I sat smugly watching him, hearing the murmurs of the crowd. What an amazing pastor. I did not turn around, I simply smiled to myself. Can he possibly have as great of a marriage as it seems? I knew they were wondering. And I thought to myself; why... yes! Yes he does!

The wedding ceremony ended, and the reception began. We all sipped on delicious wines and rich lobster bisques. My husband charmed the room, and I laughed at his jokes... while telling a few of my own. He swept me off onto the dance floor, and we swayed about until I excused myself to powder my nose. In the powder room, Korean grandmothers were chatting among themselves. I charmed them by demonstrating my surprising ability to speak Korean. I took a moment to admire the full length mirrors throughout the grand powder room, and the gold-plated vanities with disposable cloth-based towels. The soap complimented the modern fixtures, and the entire room was marble.

I walked further into the restroom, and walked into the first stall which was protected by a tasteful wooden door. I looked inside, and the seat was covered with urine and unflushed waste. I gasped and went into another stall. This stall simply had a toilet seat cover remaining on top of it, and a wad of toilet paper dancing gracefully in the water below. I furrowed my brow, and decided to skip 4 stalls in order to find a new one... only to find that there were unmentionable contents in there. As I rushed into a completely empty and clean stall. I sat down, and realized that for as beautiful as the powder room was... it was simply a place for excrement disposal, and people wearing nice clothes used it.

I went to the beautiful sink to wash my hands, realizing that it was simply there because of our fear that we might have residual excrement on our hands... and we really ought to wash it off (even if you will never be 100% sanitary). The reality was disillusioning, and I couldn't help but feel deceived by the splendor of the evening.

My husband was waiting for me, and I really did want to just powder my nose and go back to the grand illusion. But, I chose to hold my breath and flush those 3 toilets. 

I washed my hands again, and walked out with all composure... 

...satisfied that I had sustained the fantasy for others, and wishing that they had done the same for me.