The Gay Uncle was in one of his favorite places yesterday: an airport bathroom! He’s been on the road quite a bit recently, and since his bladder is about the size of an almond, he spends an inordinate amount of time in terminal pissoirs. There’s always something…funny going on in these locales. But this was the first time he was approached by a woman on his way in. “Excuse me,” she said, “but is there a man with a little girl in there?” Gunc found this a strange request, not only because it called for his being psychic, or that it conjured all sorts of nasty images, but also because he worried that by answering he might become embroiled in some sort of kidnapping/custody/traversing state lines battle between this lady and her estranged husband (he was in Dallas!). Still, being an professional Advocate for Children sometimes involves taking risks. “I’ll check,” he said. The woman smiled and then called at his back, “Craig and Melinda. Their names are Craig and Melinda.”
They weren’t difficult to find. Unlike in most other airport bathrooms, there was only one man standing with his head in poked into the stall, barking instructions to whoever was on the other side of the half-closed door (“You have to wipe! You have to wipe!”). And only one person with a tiny squawky voice answering from the other side (“I am NOT going to wipe! I’m not!”) Motivated by a profound sense of duty (ugh), the G.U. approached the man from behind. “Excuse me,” he said, suddenly at a loss for how to proceed. “Are you Craig and Melinda?” The man took a step back and revealed his face: early 30’s and decent looking, but reddened, sweating, and screwed up into a rage-filled scowl. “Yes,” he spat. The Parenting Bubble does all sorts of crazy shit to people–blinding them to the futility, counter-productiveness, and entrenched nature of their child-rearing tactics–but this was one of the worst forms of perspective-losing Gunc had seen in a long time: a man trying to make his daughter wipe her bottom–verbally, argumentatively, and forcefully–in a PUBLIC RESTROOM. It’s her butt, the G.U. wanted to tell the man, Close the door and let her take care of it. (Whose control issue is this?) But this did not seem the time or place to offer advice to a stranger. So The Gay Uncle turned on his polished heel and exited. “They’re in there,” he told the anxious mother, who was pacing by the door. “But they don’t seem to be doing very well.” He reached into his purse to grab his business card–the one with the SAY UNCLE slogan, an image of the book’s cover, and a link to this site on it–but mommy had already picked up here cell phone and turned away. “Craig?” she shouted into it. “What’s going on in there?” Gunc suddenly realized he hadn’t completed his business, but decided it was best if he found a different bathroom.