"CH-CH-CH-CH-Changes!"

Who's the crazy man taking pictures in the men's room? Daddy-o!

Four years ago I started noticing the presence of changing tables in men's rooms. The first one I remember seeing was on the third floor of the Century City Bloomingdales, when Shanon and I were wasting enjoying hours 1,703 through 1,709 of the process known as "filling out the bridal registry."

(Three points I'd like to make about this: 1) Eisenhower and his staff reportedly spent a mere 1,648 man-hours planning D-Day, 2) it's not called the "groomal" registry, and 3) this registry activity coincided with the final round of the 2002 British Open at Muirfield, when 13 players finished within three shots of the lead, and there was a four-way playoff that gave Ernie Els the famed claret jug. I know all this because I read about it the next day. But I've gotten over it -- can't you tell?).

So there was this changing station in a fancy Bloomingdales restroom. I remember seeing it way back when, but it didn't really register (that verb was taking place -- ever so slowly -- over in the china/crystal/silver part of the store). It was like noticing that Bloomingdales had installed a special sink for people to clean their dentures with. Who cares, right?

That was the summer of 2002. Fast forward almost exactly four years and guess what? That changing station was now very relevant to me. Wes appreciated it, too.

Don't worry -- Wes is on his very own hygenic changing pad (out of view)

And as I walked out of this place, zig-zagging through acres of kitchen gadgets, linens and flatware, on my way to finding Shanon (down in the first-floor archipelago of cosmetics counters), I encountered another beleaguered father. He was carrying a fussy infant in one hand, was dragging a tired-looking 4-year-old with his other, and had the telltale diaper bag strapped across his shoulder. He looked at Wes, looked at me, and nodded towards the men's room: "Changing table?"

"That-a-way!"

Then Wes and I split. 'Cause the third floor of Bloomingdales still isn't much fun for a couple of wild and crazy guys like us.