Shortly after consuming two 24-ounce water bottles, I found myself trapped in a two-hour film studies lecture with no hope of reprieve. Finally, after what seemed like years to my agonized bladder, the professor granted the class a seven-minute break. Sweet! Just what I needed! I sprinted full-pace to the nearest bathroom and was pleased to find the highly sought-after Buchanan bathroom unoccupied.

Perhaps my pressing bladder temporarily blinded me from recognizing that I was not the only woman in the women’s bathroom. Before I chose my own stall, a slight noise drew my attention to the far stall on the right. I glanced under the doors to see if someone was occupying the stall and discovered two pairs of feet — one hairy, sandal-clad, masculine pair and one wearing nice red shoes.

My goodness, didn’t mean to interrupt that one! I quickly left that bathroom to find an alternative. But I have to ask: Is having sex in a bacteria-infested room, where thousands of women have been, really that arousing? Now, I am not criticizing the appeal of having sex in a risqué location. Power to the brave men and women who manage to become part of the mile-high club. That is difficult and talented.

What is the difference, you may ask, between having sex in a restroom on campus and a restroom on an airplane? For one thing, you may successfully bar others from the bathroom on an airplane by using a magical indicator called a “lock.” If I wanted to use that bathroom, for instance, I would notice the sign on the door boldly declaring the space “occupied.” As the room is more secluded, what the couple is doing in the room would be left to my imagination. I would not easily see or hear what was going on inside the room.

In Buchanan’s lovely bathroom, doors have fallen off, one door will not shut and the other door requires manual positioning of the door to secure the lock. Thank you, tuition money. So when I discovered that the couple was using the only truly good stall, I felt shafted. I mean, really! There is also the fact that I knew exactly what they were doing, or at least intending to do. I should think it especially unwise to have sex in Buchanan’s bathroom because a large majority of students that use that bathroom are film studies students. Unlike me, though, I am sure there are potential female directors who might have a camera on them. You never know.

Regardless, my thought was not geared toward recording the situation on camera, but on fulfilling my urge to use the toilet and skedaddle quickly. I reconsidered — am I the rude person in this scenario for disturbing them, or do they secretly want others to use the bathroom so their sexual tension increases? I didn’t want to be used to help them fulfill their sexual fantasies, so I left. I found a bathroom and returned to class. I briefly joked with two of my friends over the situation that had just occurred and then dedicated my attention to the professor.

Two students came back into the class late, one female, then one male. I noticed the female clad in red shoes first. “Those look familiar,” I thought to myself. Then enters the male clad in sandals — the very same pair of feet I had just encountered in the women’s bathroom. Now I have two faces to put with the two pairs of feet. A word to the wise: If you don’t want to be seen in a compromising position and later recognized, you ought to at least take off your shoes.

Dara Moss is a senior film studies and anthropology major.

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