My Pocket Sun

When I started working at the Cinecave, I bought two things I realized I would need. The first was a watch, because working in a theater that’s two or three stories underground and has lots of cement overhead because it used to be a parking garage tends to drain a cell phone’s battery really damn quickly. Not to mention it’s just easier to look at my wrist then to fumble my phone out of my pocket every time I need to check the time to see if Auditorium 4 is about to get out or not.

The second thing I bought is what my coworkers refer to as my pocket sun. It’s been missing for a week.

I found my pocket sun the other night. The last time I remembered seeing it was while I was cleaning my closet. My closet is huge – it’s like sixty-four square feet. It’s a storage room, a dressing room, a hobby studio, and a clothes hanger all wrapped into one. My cats will also commandeer it for their own purposes if I’m not careful enough to keep the door closed.

Turns out, I’d left the pocket sun on a bookshelf. And then for some reason, I’d put a stack of books in front of it. Whoops.

Point of fact: I do not, in fact, carry a star in my pocket. It’s actually a compact LED flashlight. And it’s super bright. I can be standing at one end of the auditorium hall at the Cinecave and illuminate the far wall of the hall. That’s literally a city block. With a flashlight that’s about as long as my thumb.

It’s awesome. It’s also really bright.

A couple of weeks ago I was down on U Street for a happy hour at Tabaq Bistro. I met a whole lot of Twitterers and bloggers, including A Single Girl, Cupcakes & Shoes, and Sassy Marmalade, and it was a really fun time. Buuut I’d just worked the previous night at the Cinecave which, when you factor in the early hour I arise for my day job, basically meant I was running on about four and a half or five hours of sleep and was pretty tired. So I went, had a couple of beers, made my excuses, and caught the bus home.

Before I caught the bus, though, I wanted to relieve my bladder. So I ventured down to the basement, which was the only place where I could find a restroom (maybe I’m blind?). I entered the men’s room and was greeted by absolute pitch darkness. Like, seriously, even with the door open I could barely make out a sink and a urinal. I groped along the wall for a light switch and found nothing, which completely confused me. Where was the light switch? Maybe it was on the outside wall? I looked, and no light switch.

I pulled out the pocket sun and flashed it about almost blinding myself with the reflection of the light off the mirror. The restroom was small. There was a urinal and a sink, and then a stall to my left. I decided that, screw it, I’d just keep the pocket sun on and hold it on while I did my business. Here’s the problem: among the pocket sun’s flaws, and it has them, perhaps the biggest flaw is that the switch must be depressed for the light to work. Release it, and the light turns off. (The other flaw is that it’s far too easy to activate one of the light’s features like, say, strobe, and far too difficult to figure out how to turn said features off.)

I decided to try this delicate maneuver in the stall, where at least I wouldn’t blind some other patron trying to relieve his bladder. Opening the door of the stall I saw the light switch.

On the wall. Of the stall. Access blocked by the stall door.

Are you kidding me?

Who the fuck puts a light switch on the other side of the stall door?

Whoever wired Tabaq Bistro, apparently.