Living with ADD

The Wandering Mind

In the past I’ve shared my propensity for getting sidetracked in the loo and talking to strange men at Bunnings . The sad thing is, my experience with toilets and strange men is not limited to those two episodes.

Quite the opposite in fact. I have a long history with toilets and strange men and I lay the blame squarely at the feet of my wandering mind, which sometimes forgets that it belongs to me and I need it.

Mental Vacation

The first incident I can recall was at the Perth Entertainment Centre which, for those of you who were born this century, was on the site that now holds the RAC Arena. I was at a concert, INXS I think. During the support act there was a very bad smell. I thought someone was farting and couldn’t stand it any more, so decided that I may as well have a quick loo break and beat the crowds at intermission.

Something happened in the loo that to this day I still cannot fathom. I had just popped in for a quick visit and I would love to blame aliens or a temporal anomaly for what happened next, but I’m pretty sure it was just my mind on vacation again.

When I exited the rest rooms I was greeted by an eerie silence. I entered the auditorium to find it completely empty, not one person in sight. The entire Entertainment Centre, with a seating capacity of over 8,000, had been evacuated. It took a while for my mind to catch up, so I wasn’t scared just yet, but I did think it might be a good idea to go outside. As I headed for the nearest exit I was greeted by a swarm of people re-entering the building.

When I later caught up with my friends, they told me there had been a gas leak (hence the smell). To this day I try not to think about the fact that not one of them came to fetch me from the loo. Although in their defense, they figured I’d hear the alarm. What alarm? I heard no alarm!

I would love to blame aliens or a temporal anomaly…

but I’m pretty sure it was just my mind on vacation again.

Not long after this concert, I was in Italy. One day I was visiting relatives, who also had relatives visiting from the North. I went to the loo and locked the door. Nobody told me that in Italy the internal doors have double locks; the key turns twice. So when I thought I was unlocking the door, I was actually locking it again. After several minutes of turning the key back and forth, I eventually swallowed my pride and called out for help. When I finally did manage to get someone’s attention, they had to coach me through the very complicated process of unlocking the door.

However, that wasn’t the worst part! Those relatives from the North? Two weeks later they had returned home and I visited them in their apartment.

And yep, you guessed it, I did it again! Except this time it was worse because the apartment was much bigger, so it took longer for them to hear my cries for help, and in my panic I managed to buckle the key. The ordeal ended with me passing the key across to the owner from one balcony to the next, so that she could unlock it from the outside. The key was so damaged it seemed like it wasn’t even going to work for her!

By this point I was beginning to get excited: they were going to have to call for the fire brigade to get me out. But alas, they managed to free me.

Is the Wandering Mind a Danger to Society?

In my defense, going to the loo is the perfect time to give my ADD mind a mental vacation. She works hard after all.

Or maybe not.

It could be argued that the wandering mind is a danger to society. Hubby thinks so. He would argue that all of the innocent people I trample on or cut off, for no other reason than they happen to be within arm’s reach of me while I’m doing my shopping, are proof of how much of a menace I am.

The fact that I have never seen any of these people that I’ve supposedly cut off, walked in front of, or trampled; leads me to believe it’s just a story he’s fabricated for his own amusement.

Although there was that time I entered the toilets at Adventure World and surprised a group of young men.

“What do you boys think you’re doing??”

At first they were too stunned to speak, then one of them piped up, “Ummm… this is the men’s?” To which I responded “No it’s not, it’s the ladies’ and you need to get out before I call Security!”

At that point I turned around to face a row of urinals.

I’d like to add here that a hole quickly swallowed me up to save me from the embarrassment. But no such hole appeared.

I was left standing, red faced, with a row of urinals on one side and a bemused group of young men on the other. So I did what any self respecting Mad Italian would do under such circumstances.

I walked out like nothing ever happened.