Sunday, February 15, 2009


There are so many things I could have used for a title for the this post, but I'll go with this "knockknockknock" because it reminds me of a different knocking story than the one I'm actually going to tell. In college, my best friend and I had an inside joke/thing where we'd sign our emails "knockknockknock." It came from being dorm neighbors my senior year/her junior year—we shared a wall, and the heads of our beds were on either side of it, so sometimes at night, before we went to sleep we'd knock on the wall as a way of saying goodnight. Random, but a fun little thing to share between close friends.

That, however, is not the knock, knock that this post is about. I just remembered it as I started typing what is actually quite a different knocking experience. I love a good laugh, and I love a good story even more, and this is definitely a keeper:

It all started the other day at a funeral. I know, leave it to me to have some ridiculous story coming from such a somber occasion. It helps that I was with my friend Andrea, because we seem to often get into some sort of interesting situation together.

So, we go to lunch and then head to the funeral home, and when we arrive, both of us desperately need to head to the little girls' room before the service begins. When we walk in, we see that there are 3 stalls/rooms—each has a full door on it, not just your basic stall door. Two are definitely occupied, but we're not so sure about the middle one.

I walk up to the door, and gently reach for the handle. Now, I'm not much for knocking, because something about it just seems rude, so typically, my first move is to LIGHTLY test the door knob, and then gently knock. I hate loud knockers and knob gigglers…

So, I gently (and, really, I mean, gently) touch the knob and as soon as I do, I hear,

"UH UNH!" (I'm not sure if that adequately spells it, but it's that "oh no you didn't!" grunty sound).

Very loud.

Very not happy.

I scoot quickly away from the door and look at Andrea and we both die laughing. Except, this is a funeral home, so we can't really laugh, so we're choking in laughter and tears are streaming down my face. I grab some tissue and secretly hope that anyone who sees me will think I'm crying because of the funeral and not because I'm about to die laughing.

As we continue to laugh, we realize that the mystery person in the middle stall is almost done, so we both start looking around, trying to act all nonchalant, all the while still trying to not laugh.

Of course, someone we both know walks out.

She doesn't pay too much attention to us, but when I finally head into the bathroom and close the door, I totally lost it and was just about to the point of snorting I was laughing so hard.

I was a little worried that I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face during the actual funeral, but we'd both calmed down by then, and everything went pretty smoothly. On the way home, Andrea asked me why on earth I didn't knock, and I really had no good answer, but we both agreed that we'd been firmly converted to knocking from now on…

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