About Me

I feel the wanderlust and the call of the open highway. Which is good, because I drive cars for a living. But I'm a writer, and someday hope to once again make my living using my writing skills.

Saturday, November 20, 2010


I had to stop to use the bathroom yesterday. I was in Virginia, and stopped in a small town and went to a nice hotel. There are always fresh, clean bathrooms there, and I like a spotless toilet.

As I sat in my stall, I heard a voice. "Hey." I didn't know where the voice came from, but assumed it was not aimed at me. "Hey, you in there, can you hear me?" I was still unsure, but now became slightly uneasy. The call of nature is a very private time for me.

A hand appeared under the wall separating me from the next stall, and it was snapping its fingers at me. "Hey, it's me, over here. Your next door neighbor." The voice had a thick accent, like one of the guys on JERSEY SHORE. "Hey pal, don't leave me hanging. I mean, I assume you are a pal, if you are a girl then I'm in the wrong place." He cackled.

"Hello," I answered sheepishly.

"Good to know you're there. Hey, it's a cold one out there today, isn't it?"

"Yes, I guess."

"No, no, don't guess. Never guess in life, be sure and you'll always rest assured. You follow my logic?"

"I suppose I do."

"You're a non-commital fellow, aren't you? Well that's cool, takes all kinds." His hand remained in sight, and he was very expressive using it as he spoke. "Nothing like a good dump, don't you agree?"

"Uh, well, I uh--"

"No need to be shy, we're both men after all. We're just a couple of guys, hanging out, sitting here taking our daily constitutionals."

"I just like to sit quietly and meditate."

"I heard that. Yes, I know exactly what you mean. Can I give you a piece of free advice? Invest. America needs a shot in the arm, and if we all invest our financial status will rise accordingly."

"Good to know."

"Damn straight. I'd tell you what to invest in, but then you'd know all my secrets."

"That's OK."

"It'll have to be OK, that's the last word I'm going to say on the matter. Say, are you one of those guys?"

"One of what guys?"

"You know, the kind who do stuff?"

"I don't think I know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do."

"No, I really do not. I just like to sit quiet and alone and mind my business."

"Buddy, I couldn't agree with you more if I tried, so I won't."

I had to think that one over. Then I remained quiet. I watched the hand moving under the stall wall, as if it had a mind of its own. It began snapping fingers once more.

"Hey, you still there?"

"Yes, I am, sitting in silence."

"I want you to know that I'm not one of those guys."

"One of what guys?"

"The kind of guys who look for friends in the bathroom."

"That's goodl"

"Looking for friends, or maybe friends with benefits."

Uh-oh, I thought. I took a deep breath. "I'm not looking for anything."

"Well, anything is exactly what I can provide. For a friend, that is."

"I'm not your friend."

"That's a hell of a thing to say. You don't even know me." The hand disappeared, then it came back and tossed a roll of toilet paper my way. "Thought you might need this."

"Nope, I'm all set over here. But thanks." I hurried to finish up so I could get out.

"I"ve decided to forgive and forget about that remark about not being my friend. I know you didn't mean to be rude."

I quickly got dressed and flushed, rushing out of the stall. I heard his stall door opening behind me as I scurried for the exit door. "Hey, hey, don't forget to wash your hands! Do you know how nasty it is to run out without a proper washing?"

Yes I do know, and I soon found another place to wash my hands. But my bigger priority at that moment was getting as far away as possible.

No comments:

Post a Comment