To be or not to be--offended, that is

After the long trip into the city, and before the show, everyone wanted to use the theater's restrooms. Easy enough for the men and boys, not so good for us women. There was no line to enter the men's room, but the line for the ladies' room extended out the entrance to the lavatory doors and down the side of the room. So I waited until intermission, and not the beginning of intermission but halfway through, when I thought the line might be, if not nonexistent, at least shorter. Unfortunately, not true! There was still a long line, extending out the door and around the room. So I stood in line outside the doors behind at least a dozen and a half people. A matron walked alongside the line and asked me if I wanted to use the handicapped restroom. I was totally surprised---after all I had been STANDING there, not leaning or moaning or crying or anything like that. My mind was on the verge of asking why, but instead I heard myself say "Sure I would." The woman proceeded down the line and asked another woman the same question. Turns out, she was 22 weeks pregnant. So the 2 of us were ushered into a private lavatory "suite" including chairs so you could sit while waiting your turn. There were 3 of us in there and no waiting. I have seldom felt so special and so indignant at the same time.