Page 1 of Capitally Engaged

Chapter

One

Jax

Norms for everyday life existed most adults were able to adhere to. Not shitting yourself in public was one of them.

But irritable bowel syndrome doesn’t always play by normal rules. So, I found myself, once again, desperate to find a bathroom thanks to my current IBS flare up. My stomach rested calmly when I left to walk around the Mall from my Capitol Hill sublet twenty minutes ago. Now trapped in a desert of easy bathroom options, I needed one as desperately as readers need the next book after a cliffhanger.

I wiped sweat off my brow that had no business forming there on a chilly February day and looked around again. On the easternmost side of the Mall sat nothing but congressional office buildings—the Library of Congress, the Supreme Court and, of course, the Capitol itself. Pulling up Google Maps, to see if a secret Starbucks popped up in the past few days, only served to remind me I was about to be up shit creek—literally—without a paddle.

Piles from last week’s snowstorm lay parallel to the sidewalks lining the back half of the Capitol between the Capitol buildingitself and First Street. The dirty, greyish mounds were doubling as guide rails, pointing me toward the steps leading down to the visitor’s entrance of the country’s legislative seat. With no other choice, I took off at a brisk, but not too brisk, walk.

“I can’t fucking believe I’m about to do this,” I muttered, removing my gloves so I could run my fingers through my long brown hair where it poked out under a blue beanie. I approached one of the Capitol Police officers by the door, doing my best to look casual and like I had any business approaching the visitor’s entrance besides, you know, business.

“Hi there. Is this where the line starts?”

The officer, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than outside in the freezing temperatures minding lines of tourists, jerked his head to the area behind me.

“Line starts back there. Lead up to a holiday weekend, lots of tourists in town.”

I turned around and saw a large crowd waiting to enter the first screening area to start their Capitol tour.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I pivoted back to the man, who seemed desperate to not meet my eyes, as my stomach twinged painfully again. I put on my best I-can-get-you-to-tell-me-anything smile and abandoned the last traces of my dignity. “I just need to duck into the restroom. Any chance I could cut in?”

The man shook his head, dismissing me again, keeping an eye peeled for anything out of the ordinary. Guess the smile fails in effectiveness when it was covering up grimaces and panic.

I nodded and made my way back to the steps, my mind racing for other options.

“Miss?”

I stopped three steps from the bottom and turned.

A different officer stood next to my original not-savior and looked at his colleague. They muttered something to each other and looked back at me.

“Is it an emergency?” Apparently, this new officer overheard our exchange from his post by the door.

“Yes,” I said, aware of how desperate I sounded, but not willing to care.

“Come on then,” my new best friend said. He waved me down toward the entrance and opened the door so I could scoot on through.

“Thank you so much. I hope you get off door duty soon. Or they invest in heaters for you all or... or something.”

Chuckling, he waved me on inside, saying, “Good luck,” with the inflection and tone of understanding only someone else who suffered from gastrointestinal distress on a regular basis could manage.

I removed my coat and emptied my pockets so I could walk through the metal detector. Once through security, I made my way to the top level of the Capitol Visitors Center. Not unlike any other time I entered a public space, my eyes searched for the signage showing the way to the bathroom. Even though work brought me to the Capitol routinely, being in the visitors center was a rare occasion. Thoughts of my job added an additional ache to my troubles, unrelated to my current bowel workings.

A glorious wall placard showed a women’s room available both to my left and to my right. As a left-handed gal, I went with the lucky left side and hurried down the hallway, the side-by-side openings to a set of restrooms coming into focus in front of me. I moved faster, only to come to a sudden stop in the middle of the walkway. There were stanchions drawn across both openings.

So, back in the other direction I went, again cursing the lament of the southpaw. While I moved in active pursuit offinding a bathroom, I felt briefly in control of my body again. Each failure, however, pushed me closer to ruin—ruining these pants. I approached the other set of bathrooms and saw there were stanchions blocking the entrance to these facilities, too.

“What the fuck?” I said out loud, my frustration bubbling over. A tour guide passing through followed my gaze to the unavailable toilets. “Sorry, ma’am. Something’s wrong with the water in this part of the building. It’s all shut off. There’s a single occupancy bathroom down by the tour start on its own system that’s still open. You can head down those stairs?—”

Before she had time to finish her directions, I took off toward the stairs she indicated, throwing a quick “thank you” over my shoulder. I set off in pursuit of the one working bathroom available to the whole public right now, hoping I’d get lucky. My feet pounded down the stairs, dodging families and visitors speaking in other languages. My toilet-finding senses kicked in as I hit the solid floor again. I hurried to my right, only to find a fifteen-person queue for the single occupancy bathroom I thought would be my savior.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck,” I said, stomping my foot a bit. I ignored the scandalized looks from Ma and Pop from rural-flyover USA, feeling near tears. Everything in life felt out of my control, including my own body’s functions. Why should the availability of bathrooms in one of the most popular tourist attractions in the city be any different? I probably should get out of these hallowed halls before I soiled them more than your average lawmaker did daily.

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