An extremely rare white giraffe called Omo. She lives in Tanzania’s Tarangire National Park and was first spotted in 2015. Omo isn’t albino but has a genetic condition which is called leucism. While her skin doesn’t produce pigmentation, her soft tissues do.
If you’ve ever driven from Indiana to Ohio via I-70, you will know that the Warm Glow Candle Store boasts the ‘nicest bathrooms on I-70.’ I’ve been to the Warm Glow bathrooms. They’re…um…
‘Nice’ is a relative term. I would call it…
… you know, I’m not going to get into it because this story isn’t about the Warm Glow Candle Store Bathroomstm
This is about the bathrooms on the other side of the highway- at the combination Marathon/Dairy Queen/Godfather’s Pizza.
This particular stop along I-70 is in the middle of two long-ish stretches of highway. There’s really not much along this stretch of highway other than signs for Warm Glow and Tom Raper’s RV’s. (Yes, that is a real name.) About ten miles from the stop, my girlfriend says that she’s going to need to find a bathroom and I tell her that I’ll pull over at the next stop, which happens to be the Warm Glow exit.
Well, it’s about 8:00 on a Sunday and Warm Glow is closed, so we jump across the highway to the Godfather’s Dairython. We’ve stopped here before and it’s an alright place. That is to say… we thought it was an alright place until… yesterday.
So… she has to pee. And… now I have to pee.
And the women’s room is being cleaned. A big PVC pipe has been put up to prevent anyone from entering. We figure we’ll just use the men’s room, but for the sake of everyone’s comfort we wait outside the bathroom so that the one dude in there isn’t uncomfortable with a couple ladies being present while he takes a dump.
So the dude leaves and we’re about to head in and the lady cleaning the women’s room comes out and says:
“You can’t go in there.”
Okay. Pause. “We… can’t?”
“You can’t go into the men’s room.”
Extended pause. “…..why? There’s no one in there.”
“I can’t have WOMEN going into the MEN’S room!” She’s got her waggling finger up and she is doing that head roll thing.
So I’m waiting for her to like… actually explain to me why I can’t go in there when the room is empty and we’re not disturbing anyone and we need to pee. But no explanation comes. Also curiously absent from this conversation are any suggestions on what to do about our absolutely necessary bodily function and she is staring us down like we just took the last Totino’s Pizza Roll.
“So….wow,” I begin. Like what do you want me to do here, take a piss over at gas pump #3? But she’s doing that staring thing like I have offended her by existing. Pizza roll, pizza roll. “You know… whatever. Peace out, lady.”
Now, the Godfather’s Dairython is the ONLY thing that appears open at this time of night. The only things in the area are a car repair shop that’s closed and a Super 8 hotel that looks abandoned.
As much as I want this story to have like a twist at the end where we go back and squat down on the sidewalk, the truth is that we were already tired and finding a place to pee that wouldn’t end in our incarceration was number one on the list. So we have to get back in the car, drive to the next stop like five miles away, and then scurry to the only place with lights on, which is a completely different Marathon station not currently being cleaned by The Keeper of the Pizza Rolls.
Like I get that you’re salty that you don’t got the Nicest Bathrooms On I-70, but could you like… I dunno… at least try not to be the Rudest Attendant in the State of Indiana?