can i poop in peace?
the bathroom in the far west wing of the building is perfect for moving your bowels because it is generally empty and also a single stall. i quicken my pace to reach the bathroom because i feel my poop trying to poke through like a turtle head peeking out of it's shell.
i enter the bathroom, zip lock bag full of baby wipes in hand, to find it empty as usual. "aahhhhh.....this is going to be nice," i think to myself.
a private, peaceful dump after a hearty lunch. my own natural ecstasy. i open the stall door only to find one of the most repulsive and disgusting sights i'i have seen since that rest stop outside of Fresno. liquid poop splattered all over the bowl and seat. some of it found its way on to the wall behind the toilet. how someone managed to do that i have no fucking clue. i gaged as i turned my head and started for the exit.
this was not good, not good at all. the next closest bathroom was about 100 feet away. not too far of a walk, but 100 feet can feel like 100 miles when your poop is trying to make a surprise guest appearance in your underpants. i power walk towards the bathroom, my ass clinched tight as hell. this was a serious situation. here i am, 1 week shy of my 23rd birthday, a grown adult, on the verge of messing myself. it has gone past the point of turtle heading and has reached the red alert stage of prairie dogging. this is the last step before actually making brownie batter in your underwear.
the bathroom door was in view now. it was a high traffic, multi-stall bathroom near the center on the building. i usually avoided this bathroom at all cost, only occasionally using it to take a piss, but never for shitting. unfortunately today i had no choice.
i entered the bathroom expecting to find it full of overweight, middle aged men, but was surprised and relieved to see only two guys present. one at the sink, the other in a stall. the smell of air freshener trying to disguise the smell of urine and excrement lingered in the air. the guy at the sink looked at me through the mirror. "hey hey, there he is," he said.
this walrus of a man had no idea who i was and i sure as hell did not know who he was. yet he felt it was necessary for us to communicate in some way or another. that is fine with me. i could care less. "TGIF eh?" he continued as he washed his hands, water splashing on to his jeans and typical friday hawaiian print shirt.
god it is corny as hell at my work. i gave him a half smile and a nod and headed toward the stalls. there were four stalls, only the last one was occupied. i looked at the shoes of the occupant. i always do. he was wearing a pair of incognito, plain black Reeboks, concealing his identity. my shoes were always a dead give away. no matter what pair i was wearing people knew it was me taking a shit and i hated it.
i set foot in to the stall next to Mr. Black Reeboks since it was the only one that did not require flushing before using. i hurried and undid my pants at the same time laid down the horse shoe seat protector. my ass was barely over the bowl when i dropped the shark in the water.
after the initial poop it would be a minute till the rest came. you know how that goes. it was while i was sitting there that i noticed how disgustingly warm the seat was. i was sitting in someone else's ass warmth. i imagined Mr. Luau Shirt sitting on the toilet seconds before me. his fat, sweaty ass covering the whole seat. sweat dripping from his brow and the tip of his nose. the rolls on the back of his neck looked like a pack of hot dogs. now i was not sure if i was going to use toilet for shitting or barfing.
so there i sat in silence. Mr. Luau Shirt had left and it was just me and Mr. Black Reeboks. in this huge bathroom we were no more than three feet apart and only an inch thick sheet of metal separated us. that was when i realized that Mr. Black Reeboks was no longer shitting. he was merely reading. reading in that stinky ass bathroom of all places.
i on the other hand had more pooping to do. and this fucker was ruining it. i would have had the whole bathroom to myself if he would just leave. it would be perfect.
in the city of sacramento there are hundreds of shady park benches, cozy couches, and grassy knolls for him to curl up and read. but opposed to all that, Mr. Black Reeboks preferred the ambiance of a shitty, smelly bathroom. inhaling other peoples' vapors and fumes.
so there we sat. the only thing to break the silence was the occasional rustling of paper with the turn of a page or a fart from my ass. i was just about done now and wanted to at least wipe my ass in privacy. i was not up for someone listening to me while i wiped my ass with toilet paper, then a baby wipe, then toilet paper, then a baby wipe, then toilet paper, then a baby wipe and so on. "Wipe till it's white," that is my motto. i am really anal about keeping my anus clean.
it was just then that my wish had been granted. Mr. Black Reeboks rose to leave and he did. he did not even bother to wash his hands. what a sick bastard he was.
Finally. at last, some privacy. thank you lord and buddha. no more than ten seconds pass before the bathroom door opens and somebody else enters. DAMN IT, DAMN IT, DAMN IT! that is when i hear my name spoken out loud. "so how bout that heat outside, Steve?"
i look down and start to pout. actually pout out loud and mutter under my breath "damn these gum soled, olive adidas."