Haloed Hen’s Night

Natalie and I walked into the bathroom at a pub. My brown flats clicked on the yellow tiled floor.

“There’s no toilet paper. We sent someone to get some,” said a woman in a corset, tutu, feathery wings, and a halo – all white.

I was spending a weekend in Bath. The city’s architecture is all cream and symmetrical, but the place defines the phrase “a night on the town.” Also at this pub was a hen party.

“I bet there’s some in the gents’. They don’t use it. Do you want me to go check in there?” White Tutu called into the stall she was holding shut from the outside.

Natalie and I waited against the wall.

“Do you think her wedding’s tomorrow?” Natalie asked me. “I want my bachelorette party the night before my wedding.”

“Hm, I don’t know.” My sock had slipped off. I pulled it back over my heel.

“Oh, I’m sick of waiting. I’m fine.” A woman in a blue halo and wings came out of the stall on the end.

“What? Did you get some?” asked the woman inside the stall.

“No, just shake a little.”


“Yeah, come on! Your party’s waiting.”

“I’m going into the gents’” said Tutu. Her stilettos scrapped against the floor as she walked, and she held the wall for balance. In the bathroom doorway, she stopped. Yet another winged and haloed woman – this one in all black – walked towards the bathroom. A waitress holding one small roll of toilet paper followed her.

“This is literally all we have left.” The waitress handed the toilet paper to Tutu who passed the roll under the stall.

“Oh good. Finally!” The woman came out of the stall in a red corset, wings, and halo. She wore a sash that said “bride.” She walked to the mirror and took lipstick out of her purse.

“Congratulations,” I said.

“Yeah, congratulations,” Natalie said.

They strutted out of the bathroom, stilettos scrapping, wings bouncing.