Why did I do it? Such a poor decision.
I think I wanted to look at Snapchat. Yes, that was it. But then the volume was on and I frantically had to turn it off but it was too late because the person in the stall next to me definitely heard it. Then I had to wait for the person next to me to leave because who brings their phone into the bathroom?
And now I’ve reached that point where the phone needs to be put down.
But where to put it?
The floor? Gross.
The little ledge on top of the TP dispenser? But it sort of slopes and I can just imagine my precious device crashing to the floor, or worse…
What if it got flushed? What about all my friends?
Maybe I could stuff it into my back pocket while I button my pants? NO WAIT! I’VE TRIED THAT ONCE! I failed, and my poor phone spent the next two days trapped in a bag of rice.
Once I saw a girl emerge from one of these stalls carrying her laptop. How in the world did she maneuver that?
This place is a cellular mine field.
And the worst part of this whole dilemma is that I’ve had it before, so many times.
Why do I keep doing it?
Why has my phone become an appendage?
Ah, but suddenly I know what to do: I will put it in my teeth.
I turn it horizontally and bite down, hard, the muscles in my face straining under the clench, don’t drop it don’t drop it, don’t drop it, and now jeans are buttoned and zipped and my hands are free.
I take my phone, slide it lovingly under my arm, like a little chick under its mommy’s wing, and emerge from my stall, victorious.
I will forget again, I know it. Maybe next time I’ll bring my laptop.