Breaking and Entering?

Hypothetically, I *might* have committed a crime.

And gotten caught.

And ran away so I didn't end up in solitary confinement in prison.

Or, more likely, been scolded by a cop.



It started just after the sun had risen on January 1st.  I emerged from the parking garage where Briefcase and I were trying to stay warm until the parade began.  We had been drinking coffee in the warm, heated, car.

We were only a few feet out of the garage.  The sun was just beginning to shed its light on the mountains, when we saw a very long line for something.  The line went on for a full street block.


"Maybe we should have left the car sooner," I mused to Briefcase.  Whatever the line was for, I was sure we were probably supposed to be in it too.

When we got a little closer, I saw everyone was lined up for these:




I hate porta-potties.  

I imagine everyone does.

I also have a bladder the size of a small marble.  My whole family teases me about my tiny bladder – especially when we go for car trips.

I had just drank a thermos of coffee while waiting in the car.

We were headed for our seats in the grandstands, but our seats were mid-route of the parade.  Once we got to our seats, we wanted to stay there for the next three hours.  It would be prudent to use a restroom before we took our seats.

My desire to not use the porta-potties was strong.

My eyes darted around, taking in the long lines, the presumably disgusting porta-potties, the surrounding businesses which were all closed due to the early hour.

Then I noticed a building off to the left.  A big office building which was clearly buttoned up and closed for the weekend.

"Let's go check out that building," I said to Briefcase.  We walked away from the crowd, out of sight of the parade route.

We tried to, surreptitiously, scout out the building.  I tried one door.  It was locked.  I tried another door, it was also locked.  The business office was clearly closed for the weekend.

We walked about 10 feet away to check out the side of the building, and all of a sudden a person emerged from the building.  She apparently had come into work for a few hours on the weekend.  As she turned away, I ran up to the door she had just come out of.  It had closed behind her, but it hadn't quite latched.


I waved to Briefcase, and we entered the deserted office building.

I giggled, probably out of nervousness.

What if we got caught?

Clearly, we weren't allowed in the building.  

I started mentally rehearsing what I would say if our entry had set off a silent burglar alarm.

"But officer, I have a tiny bladder and a terrible aversion to porta-potties!"

"But officer, it wasn't really breaking and entering!  Or was it?"

"But officer, we WEREN'T having sex we just came in to pee!"

"But officer, we didn't know we weren't allowed in the locked business office!"

I walked down one hall.  No bathroom.

I walked down another.  No bathroom.

I walked down a third hall.

I could hear voices behind a door.  It sounded like a meeting was going on.  

"Shhhh!" I said to Briefcase, pointing in the direction of the voices.

I went around another corner and I found this:

There was a men's bathroom not far away.  I pointed it out to Briefcase and told him I'd meet him outside when I was done.  I entered the women's EMPLOYEES ONLY restroom. 

I had on layers of clothes to keep warm.  It would take me awhile to peel them off enough to pee, get myself put back together, etc.

Eventually I emerged.  

I knew Briefcase was already waiting outside for me, because men can just whip it out and tuck it back, right?  They don't have to worry about layers.

I had only walked about halfway down the hall when I heard a man's booming voice say, "Hey, what are you doing in here?"

My heart stopped.

I looked behind me to see a VERY.BIG.MAN. staring me down.

He had just come out of the room where I had heard voices earlier.

I stopped dead in my tracks, frozen.

"What do I do?  What do I say?" I thought.  

My heart was racing, but the words seemed frozen in my throat.

"You're not allowed to be in here!" he said sternly, and he took a step towards me.

My mind began racing.  What kind of office building was this?  Where was I?  What did they do here?  What kind of trouble had my teeny, tiny, bladder gotten me into this time?

I panicked.


Yes, I ran!

"Hey!" he yelled, and he started after me.

Did he think I had broken in?  (I sort of had.)

Did he think I'd been eavesdropping on their meeting?

I ran down one hall and heard him following.

By the time I got to the second hall, it sounded like he'd given up.

Maybe a lightbulb went on in his head and he remembered it was parade day?  Maybe he realized it was just a crazy parade fan who had wandered in?

I didn't stop running until I was out of the building.

I glanced around and saw Briefcase about ten feet outside of the building.

I raced over to him and said, "Let's go!"

We walked away and quickly lost ourselves in the crowd.

When I told Briefcase what happened, he found it much more amusing than I did.

I guess the idea of his wife sprinting down the hallway of a locked office building to escape a chasing, yelling, office worker is funny?

© Twenty Four At Heart

15 Responses to “Breaking and Entering?”

  1. Erica

    “I guess the idea of his wife sprinting down the hallway of a locked office building to escape a chasing, yelling, office worker is funny?”
    Yes! It really is! 😀

  2. joanne

    too bad you were all layered up! You could have just turned around and hit him with those cold, high-beam bionic nipples and he would have been struck dumb!!! hahahahahaha

  3. Jan

    Who the hell works on New Year’s Day in a building right along the route of the Rose Parade? You should have asked him what HE was doing there, then called for the men in the white coats with butterfly nets.

  4. Stephen

    Having spent years around construction sites, I’m familiar with Porti Potti carnage. Yes, us guys are lucky with that zip, whip, flip, zip routine, but in lieu of unauthorized entry, next time, you might………..(I can’t believe I’m going to say this) try peeing standing up yourself. Thanks to a much loved aunt of mine who is prone to TMI pretty much all the time, I heard about pStyle. Yes, a big, burly, hairy, gun-totin’, red-blooded male just offered a tip on female urination aid products. The shame, oh, the shame. (p.s. please don’t tell anybody that I said anything about this stuff.) 🙂

  5. Gina

    I would have been right there with you……must be twins separated at birth.
    Portapotties are the pits!

  6. Linda

    Life without danger is a waste of oxygen! LOL! Gals we didn’t have to take up a collection to bail you out!

  7. Freda

    What a wonderful post. I so sympathise as I have a similar problem re going to the loo. Heck isn’t everyone on diuretics nowadays anyway. Just as well you had already been to the loo when you saw the man. Not too dignified to run, but I understand perfectly.

  8. Di

    Porta potties make me literally gag. They’re just sooooo icky.
    At least you didn’t end up with handcuffs slapped on your wrist. Although the jail bathrooms might have been cleaner than the Porta potties… you can only hope.

  9. Amy_in_Stl

    I would have just told him that a nice lady let me in to use the bathroom and I was just leaving then turned and left. People are often taken off guard with the truth.

  10. DuchessOmnium

    There’s a Brit saying that might have been invented for you, said with an indulgent smile and a shake of the head:
    Oh, what are you like?

  11. Judi

    I would have said what Amy suggested, and I also would have been right there with you finding any way possible to avoid the Porta Potties. The other thing I wonder is if those people were “at work” in order to watch the parade out their windows. A company my dad worked with years ago used to have Rose Parade viewing parties in their conference rooms that overlooked the parade route and we got to go.


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