My grandmother slid her tiny frame under the stall door and cussed the Atlanta airport. “Goddamn quarter to pee. The kid’s five years old, can’t even reach the coin slot yet, for crap’s sake. Bet your ass they don’t pay at the urinals.”
The latch clicked as soon as she was in. We took turns on the toilet and held the door for each other. When she was done she slid the latch and propped open the door for the next woman. We washed up and walked out with heads high.
“Goddamn quarter to pee,” she muttered.
Fifty cents between us. We really stuck it to the man.