This tale of a selfless, unsung act of heroism is one that should be told and retold, passed down from mother to daughter as allegory and illustration of the power of sisterhood and the universality of woman. It took place long ago, on a rainy Saturday night, in the women’s restroom of The Wild Hare tavern. (Technically, I suppose it’s more of a sports bar.)
It was on that fateful evening that I witnessed an inebriated girl emerge from a stall, realize she had a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe, and very nearly kill herself trying to get free. Her shoes were high wedges with plenty of surface area on the bottom to cling to the tissue, and the wobbly, dizzy, cross-legged way she was attempting to use her other foot to detach it was not only ineffective, but it was causing her to lean precariously into a stance that was likely to end up with her on the floor.
I assessed the situation in a flash and, with no regard for my own safety, for the stickiness of my own shoe’s soles, or for the potential surliness of a drunk and embarrassed party girl, I quickly intervened.
I was easily able to get the tip of my foot on the tiny piece of toilet paper and free her from its foul grip. The vile attacker then attached itself to my shoe.
But it was no match for my yoga-honed balancing skills, my sobriety, and my sensible shoes. Posthaste, I had it disarmed and kicked safely under the sink where it would terrorize no one else, except for the janitorial crew.
The look of sheer relief and gratitude on the girl’s face and the way she mumbled semi-coherently, “Thanks. You rock,” is something I will never forget.
Mothers, teach your daughters: you never leave a fallen solider behind, and you never let a sister in arms leave the restroom with toilet paper stuck to her shoe.