Potty Post Script

After publishing my last post, my sister e-mailed me the following. I told her I was going to blog it, out of compassion for Erin. She didn’t respond so I accepted that as her approval (although not all of her e-mails have been getting through…). This took place about nine years ago when she and my brother were working at the U.S. embassy in Riyadh one summer during college. Keep in mind, for those of you who know her, and for those of you who don’t, she’s a well-read, well-spoken, intellectual, accomplished woman who thankfully has a great sense of humor. From the words of Jennifer:

“You can tell Erin I got trapped in the bathroom the first time I used one in a Saudi restaurant. However, the cleaning lady, instead of helping me, just closed the outside door so other patrons couldn't hear me banging on the wall. By the time mom came in looking for me, I figured out the lock and came tumbling out!"

What I hadn’t included previously was Erin had locked herself in our villa bathroom within five minutes the first night in Jeddah…with the key on her side. Hopefully, though, this has not discouraged any potential visitors from coming! Don’t let this scare you away! I can always hold the door (cracked) for you like Erin insists I do for her now.