Awkward Memories | the funniest collection of awkward stories and embarrassing moments in the world ever! Seriously, these are painful. You are reading this. That makes you weird. Submit your own awkward memory to us.

Tag: bathroom

  • the bathroom bully

    To give some background, this story goes back to the early 70’s, when I was in elementary school.  At that time, the government subsidized a part of the public school lunches, which meant that each student had to pay less to buy his lunch. Because of that, the price for lunches was only $.60 and […]

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  • mile high club

    I was on a flight headed towards London. The line for the bathroom was consistently long so I was going to wait. Finally, when I could not wait any longer, the seat belt sign came on and the plane started to shake violently. I decided to attempt going anyways because it was either in the bathroom or in my seat. I made it to the bathroom without the flight attendant seeing me but soon learned why they ask you to remain seated during turbulence. The airplane suddonly dropped and my hand hit the door which wasn’t properly latched. I looked up and the woman in the seat nearest the bathroom had a look of shock on her face. I shut the door quickly and finished my crazy ride and sneaking back to my seat got a very awkward glare from the lady. Lesson learned. Amanda – CA

  • the proposition

    In 2003 I went to Houston with some friends. We were in an area of the city with a lot of homeless people. We went to use a public restroom and had to wait in line. My friends all went before me, and eventually I was left alone in the yellow, dirty bathroom with complete strangers. And by strangers, I mean they were strange. I fell into conversation with this one particularly interesting old woman. It took me a while to figure out she must have been homeless — I think the multiple empty plastic grocery bags were the give away. Anyway, she asked me how long I had been in Houston. So I truthfully told her about two hours. I must have had that young, vulnerable run away look about me, because her response was: “Oh! Well, I know a guy who takes in girls like you. And I know he’s taken in white girls before — well, she was hispanic. But he’ll give you a place to stay and he’ll take care of you…” My innocent 17-year old mind finally comprehended her proposition. I sweetly assured her that I was okay and wouldn’t need her help making my way in the world. That was my first and only “job” offer (in Houston, anyway). Beth the Other Admin