It’s been hot. I mean really HOT.
Some of the boys on our high school football team participate in a sport during the summer called “7 on 7”. For those of you who don’t know what that is, it’s football with a quarterback and receivers only. Seven guys are on each side, some rules are the same as regular football, and some rules are a little different.
It’s fast, fun, … and hot. No, I’m not talking about the players.
I went to one of their tournaments recently in College Station, Texas. (WHOOP!) We set up tents to sit under, and although it surely helped, we were still miserable.
There was not even a breath of wind in College Station that day. The prairie was so still you could hear my pores gasping for air. One lady had a little battery-operated fan that squirted water on her face from time to time. Others had wet rags draped over their necks and heads.
And we were drinking water by the gallons.
Well, one thing leads to another, you know. The row of port-a-cans stood in the midst of the crowd, baking in the 100-degree heat. Oh, how we dreaded that experience!
It wasn’t one particular thing that had us fretting … it was the exquisite combination of standing in close quarters, peeling our clothes off instead of just shaking them off, sweating even more because it would be at least 115 degrees inside these little easy-bake ovens, all the while holding our breaths. Oh, what fun.
Several of us were glancing uneasily across the field at the blue row of torture chambers when somebody finally said, “I’m gonna go see if I can find a real bathroom.”
You’ve never seen women jump so fast. “I’m coming with you!” one screamed. “Don’t leave without me!” another added.
So this entourage of extremely uncomfortable, yet determined, women set off on an adventure: to find a women’s restroom that was open to the public on a Saturday afternoon.
After a short walk, with perspiration running down our brows, we happened upon two women playing tennis. “They’d know,” we told ourselves.
One of us walked across to the tennis players as the rest of us wringed our hands. When we saw the women pointing towards a building nearby, we knew we were in luck.
Oh, oh, wat a gold mine. This wasn’t just a restroom. It was an AIR CONDITIONED restroom.
We just stood for a while, soaking up the coolness of the moment. Next, we splashed water on our faces and then sat dawn on the floor, leaning against the cool walls, to allow ourselves time to recuperate. We took off our shoes and let the cold tile chill our hot feet.
We stayed for a long time, enjoying the air conditioning, laughing, visiting, lingering.
And you guys always wondered why women take so long to go to the restroom. And why we always go in groups. Ha!
