Food Court

I give to you a story in eleventy-one times four words...

I meandered through Los Angeles’ Civic Center on a Saturday afternoon when suddenly the iced coffee I’d had set off familiar alarms. I instantly noticed that the area was a ghost town, its only inhabitants the less than fragrant vagrants talking to themselves upon any and all inhabitable surfaces.

I spied a faded orange sign that indicated a food court; flanking it were the familiar logos of subpar chain eateries. Food means bathrooms, I reasoned. I approached the entrance; a cop ascended the stairs with a ‘to go’ cup in his hand. We considered each other for a moment before I nodded. His unibrow furrowed; he lowered his head and passed.

---

I stole down the steps until I reached a vantage point where I could see the food court. Silence.

‘Must be popular on weekdays,’ I said to myself.

‘It is,’ answered a female voice.

The response startled me. I swiveled my head to see where the voice had originated, but I saw no one.

I turned to leave.

‘There’s a bathroom here.’

I stopped. ‘How do you know I need a bathroom?’

‘You’re skinny, so I know you aren’t here for the crappy food. And you don’t look stupid enough to think you’re going to find anything but food in a food court. So, you must be looking for a bathroom.’

---

‘Okay. Where is it?’

‘Come down, and I’ll show you.’

‘Where are you?’

‘Down here.’

I considered my options, felt my bladder throb, decided to descend further. I reached the lowest level; a map showed the layout of food court. It indicated that the restrooms were located on the upper level at the other end of the court.

‘Did you find it?’

I didn’t respond. Instead I began walking across the cracked cement.

‘You’re going the wrong way.’

I still didn’t reply. I walked to the map to reconfirm; it indicated that the restrooms were on the second level on the side of the court from which I had just come.

---

‘The maps are wrong. Why are you ignoring me?’

‘Who the hell are you?’ I demanded.

‘No need to get snippy, Justin.’

I paused, surveyed the court again. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘That’s not important. Don’t you still have to use the bathroom?’

I ignored the question. The food court remained empty.

‘Well, there’s no one around. I suppose you could just piss in the middle of the court; you wouldn’t be the first.’

I walked to and up the stairs.

‘Leaving so soon? Am I not an adequate host?’

I reached the top step. There stood the unibrowed officer. ‘And where do you think you’re going?’ he asked.