fantasy football in the white-tile way
Stupid tired is the day, in which sense I am the day.
Here is a fantasy I keep having on my way to the bathroom here at the hospital—but first the backstory:
Where my office at work used to be, the closest bathroom is a two-staller which is always out of at least one of the following: toilet seat covers, toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels. And always it smells like any of the following combinations: flowers + poop, papaya + poop, pine + poop. You get the idea.
Where my office is now, the closest bathroom is a private, one-person, spacious room with a toilet and sink. What a boon. Unfortunately, this bathroom is often occupied. Worse, however, is this:
I’m on my way, walking fast as I always do—and yet faster when I think I hear footsteps that sound like they're headed to the bathroom. (This is what urgent pointed purpose sounds like, no matter particular click or pad of the shoe on the tile. It’s the way it hits that speaks clearly.) One of two things often happens:
1. Someone walks out into the hallway just before I do, in front of me, and I can hear by the footsteps, see by the sway of the back of the head, that that person is headed to where I’m headed.
2. Someone rounds the corner, from the direction opposite me, and heads toward the bathroom. This person will beat me there because the corner is just a leap from the bathroom door, while I still have a whole hallway to cover.
My fantasy is this, and I’m particularly eager to enact it on people in Category 1 because those people will be unsuspecting:
Just as Person 1 reaches the bathroom door, I take off running at him or her (it’s usually a her), leap quietly like a cat from a few feet away, pushing the person aside, and, as I land in the bathroom, kick shut the door.
Person 1 would never know what hit her. And she, instead of I, would have to pad a little further to the two-stall bathroom where people are likely to enter and launch into talk, sigh, or moan.
Here is a fantasy I keep having on my way to the bathroom here at the hospital—but first the backstory:
Where my office at work used to be, the closest bathroom is a two-staller which is always out of at least one of the following: toilet seat covers, toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels. And always it smells like any of the following combinations: flowers + poop, papaya + poop, pine + poop. You get the idea.
Where my office is now, the closest bathroom is a private, one-person, spacious room with a toilet and sink. What a boon. Unfortunately, this bathroom is often occupied. Worse, however, is this:
I’m on my way, walking fast as I always do—and yet faster when I think I hear footsteps that sound like they're headed to the bathroom. (This is what urgent pointed purpose sounds like, no matter particular click or pad of the shoe on the tile. It’s the way it hits that speaks clearly.) One of two things often happens:
1. Someone walks out into the hallway just before I do, in front of me, and I can hear by the footsteps, see by the sway of the back of the head, that that person is headed to where I’m headed.
2. Someone rounds the corner, from the direction opposite me, and heads toward the bathroom. This person will beat me there because the corner is just a leap from the bathroom door, while I still have a whole hallway to cover.
My fantasy is this, and I’m particularly eager to enact it on people in Category 1 because those people will be unsuspecting:
Just as Person 1 reaches the bathroom door, I take off running at him or her (it’s usually a her), leap quietly like a cat from a few feet away, pushing the person aside, and, as I land in the bathroom, kick shut the door.
Person 1 would never know what hit her. And she, instead of I, would have to pad a little further to the two-stall bathroom where people are likely to enter and launch into talk, sigh, or moan.
5 Comments:
when you jump at person 1, i bet you pee on yourself a little.
probably. i wouldn't expect to be perfect the first time out. most likely i'll be excited to finally be putting the fantasy into action, on top of the exhilaration of the in-the-moment act itself. i should keep a change of clothes in my office for the big day.
i have this strange fantasy of sitting on some matronly woman's half-bared thighs splayed on the toilet seat. this only hits me when i'm really depressed though, and i feel i want to die laughing.
illyria, your comment, the unfolding of it, just cracked me up. thanks for sharing.
indeed i have another bathroom tale to tell when i get time. this one actually happened. people.
i can't wait. it's a good season for toilet tales! :) oh, and the holidays just bring out the absolute indecency in the loo-going public.
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