My cousin’s children Vanessa and Toni Lee were up to New York for the summer; they had just lost their mother and the entire family was very distraught. My other cousins Tom and Flo and their children Nikki and Anthony were living in Boca Raton, Florida. I took the girls and my family to a Mexican restaurant the night before they were to leave for Florida. My son Michael was twelve at the time and his sister Joelle was fifteen. He was being so annoying at the table and I said, “I wish I could send you to Florida, I cannot stand you.”
The girls starting screaming, “Yes! Aunt Macky send him down to Florida” There was no room for him at their house, but he could probably stay at Aunt Flo’s.
When we got home he was relentless; finally I called Flo and she said, “Send him down. We would love to have him.” She was coming back to New York in a couple of weeks and would bring him back. The ticket cost $400—the best money I ever spent.
The next day we were going to my cousin’s house in New Jersey for a BBQ, and on the way there we would drop him off at Kennedy Airport. This was the first time he was flying. I was very nervous, so I walked him to the gate. He was fine; he could not wait to get there. My cousin Leroy was going to pick him up. My stomach was bubbling, and I knew that I had to go to the restroom fast. I felt like I was not going to make it.
I starting running to find a restroom, I almost did not make it in time.
The bathroom was dirty, but I had no choice, I put my handbag around my neck and got to the business at hand.
When I finally finished I looked around and there was no toilet paper. I ran to the next stalls bare ass naked. No luck—there was no paper in the entire place. I was mortified, sweating and felt a panic attack coming on. What was I to do? Naturally I had no tissues in my bag. I just stood there in fear hoping that someone would come into the restroom and help me. At the time I did not have a cell phone, so I could not call any of my family members waiting in the car to rescue me. Crazy thoughts were running through my head. I had a dress on, should I use my underwear to clean myself? Fat chance, I had on a string bikini. I was taking so long I was worried that my boyfriend would have me paged. Then what? Should I pull up my drawers and hope for the best? How about using my bra? Fat chance it was so padded that I would not get it into that area. Just five minutes before I was thinking of using it as a toilet. I started praying, hoping for an answer.
What did I have in my bag that was paper? Oh my God—my check book!
I decided to use the deposit slips to clean my butt. It took several but it worked. I thought to myself, how resourceful! It was not an easy task with my handbag hanging around my neck. I was worried that my checking account number was now a logo on my butt, but I was now able to walk out of the bathroom with dignity. I was considering patenting the deposit slips for toilet paper, however, they are a little rough on that delicate area.
The moral of this story is always check for tissues and keep some in your bag and bring your checkbook. You never know how many uses there are for deposit slips!
This was not the first time this kind of incident had happened.
I was going for a sonogram and had to drink gallons of water. When I got there they told me I had to wait about a half hour. I thought to myself I will never make it. Sure enough, ten minutes later I was running to the bathroom that was down the hallway. Oh no! I missed and had urinated on myself. Oh what was I going to do?
I took off my sweat pants and underwear and put them in the garbage. All I was left with was my slouch socks, and a 3/4 leather coat. Another dilemma. I had to think fast, because my test was in about fifteen minutes.
So out of the restroom I went with a coat that barely covered my butt. The office was on Rockaway Avenue in Valley Stream, so I took myself down the street to find a store where I could buy some pants.
I walked into a thrift shop. No luck, so I keep walking. I got to a store and was able to buy a pair of sweatpants. I asked the salesgirl if I could put them on. To hell with the underwear. My dignity was saved again.
The moral to this story is if they are going to make you wait, pee on the floor, and they will think twice about telling someone they have to wait the next time.