I am Mr. Spooky Scary Bathroom Man.
I am dressed as a woman who dresses like a man dressing like a woman and through the stalls in the women's bathroom there are the sounds of preparation: zippers undone, paper seat covers rustling, the soft hush of hiked-up dresses: it is an Overture, and my heart races.
Indeed, I can't help but think that they can sense my heartbeat, the pulse of a Conductor for their Symphony to come.
There is a movement akin to an oboe first: slow, mellifluous, fluctuating, only to be pierced by a short stab of flatulent piccolo, followed by the long low rumble of intestinal cello.
Oh, the sweet sounds of the women's restroom! As the music of bodily functions ebbs and flows I am in ecstasy! I alone hear this Music, and I can feel the hair on my arms stand on end.
If only I could applaud!
I need a tissue.
I am Laslo.