Bathroom stories are funny.

Sorry, that’s just how it is. (You know I’m right, you just don’t want to admit it.)

Here is one of my favorites:

When we were doing the Gay 90s revue at the Fischer Opera Haus in Frankenmuth, after the show, we would often gather across the street at Zehnder’s bar.  (Zehnder’s being world famous for their chicken dinners.)

The restaurant is beautiful, the bar is very cozy; and it was a great place to just hang (and get drunk) after the show.  (Getting drunk after a show is a time honored tradition in the theater.)

Sometimes, audience members would be at the bar and we would (sometimes) sing for free drinks!  (Cadging free drinks is also another time honored theater tradition.)

Anyhow, one night, one member of the cast, Judy, left the table to go to the bathroom.

A little bit later, another member of the cast, Val, also left to go to the bathroom.

When you are doing the amount of drinking we were, trips to the bathroom were not only expected but absolutely mandatory.

When Val entered the bathroom, she noted one of the stalls was occupied.  (Remember, this is a classy joint, and there were doors on all of the stalls). 

The sounds coming from the occupied stall were somewhat alarming.  Somebody was attempting to show the toilet who is boss – and losing. 

Val, assuming this somebody was Judy, started calling out (in Val’s sweeter than simple syrup soprano voice), “Poooooo-py. Pooooo-py.  Is that you poopy?”

The thoroughly unamused voice from the occupied stall growled back:  “I am NOT poopy!”

Val ran for it.  Right back to the table, where Judy was sitting with the rest of us.

We never did find out who Val was serenading in the loo. 

But anytime I am in a public bathroom, and somebody lets out a hearty fart or starts a splishing and a splashing away – I am immediately back in Frankenmuth, battling with myself not to call out –

“Poooooo-py. Pooooo-py.  Is that you poopy?”