Where's a phone booth when you need one?

Last week was the week from hell. Our office was relocating. Because we were packing, organizing files, and uncovering 30 years of dust, dirt and grime... We were allowed to dress down. Great! The only problem for me is that I have been interviewing for a new job during my lunch hour upon occasion. One such occasion occured one day last week. Normally, I would have worn nice pants and a blouse and had a jacket in the car. That was not an option due to the nature of our work last week, so I thought I'd leave a few minutes early and change in a nearby McDonald's bathroom. Traffic was exceptionally horrendous that particular day and it took me 15 minutes to get near the McD's parking lot, but it was so crowded, I opted for plan B, which had not yet been developed. After several minutes of driving in the direction of my upcoming interview, I thought I'd change in the Starbuck's bathroom. It was only a block from my final destination. Did you know that Starbuck's on 5th and Muhammad Ali does not have a bathroom? The Galt House, however, right next door does. So, here I go parading through the Galt House carrying a suit... Not a big deal, it's a hotel. I change clothes, have no time to make it back to my car to drop off jeans, t-shirt and tennies, so I cram them into a plastic Kroger bag and stash it in a corner in one of the last stalls and hope for the best upon my return. I make it to my 12:30 interview at 12:27, and all is well except for the distracting concern that the FBI, CIA, or bomb squad might be investigating the mysterious bag left in the Galt House bathroom. I was imagining having to call a friend to bail me out of jail. When I returned, fortunately, everything was as I had left it. It merely left me thinking that Superman had it so easy with all those phone booths available.