My Furley Sense is Tingling…

True story:

Our office Christmas party was Wednesday night, and we’d pretty much taken up the back room of a bar. After a while, we were all pretty well lit, and I went downstairs to hit the head.

So I’m there at the urinal, and I can tell there’s someone in the stall next to me. But there’s conversation, low and quiet. A man’s voice, saying something I can’t quite hear. There’s some jostling going on in there, some maneuvering for position. A thump against the barrier between the stall and the rest of the men’s room.

And you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I know you are. S-E-X, with a capital X.

And then I hear something that makes my jaw drop. A higher voice, a woman’s voice I guess, singing.

Singing the dreidel song.

“Dreidel dreidel dreidel, I made you out of clay…” And I think: This is the single kinkiest thing I’ve ever been witness to. This is Surrender Dorothy territory.

I wash up and head up the stairs to my coworkers. One of them’s coming down the stairs, and I pull him aside and say: “There’s a couple doing it in the men’s room stall – and she’s singing the dreidel song!”

Then I go up and report the same exact thing to my horde of coworkers. I get amazed looks, and laughs, and every reaction you’d hope imparting that news would provoke.

And then a father and his preschool-age son come back up to finish their dinner, and I know exactly what was really happening in the stall: potty training.

Mortified is the word.

Sheesh.

Rob