Last fall I was at a convention in a very nice hotel. How do I know its was a nice hotel? Because the stall doors in the restrooms are wood doors that go all the way to the floor. They are like your own little personal daily constitutional lounge. Fancy shmancy!
Normally I prefer to sit on the commode in the comfort of my own home or in my own hotel room, when away. That is unless I am at work, then there is nothing better then getting paid to "do ones business".
However, at this convention after having enjoyed my morning breakfast muffin, fruit cup and some tart cranberry juice, I figured I would enjoy the posh restroom facilities. I entered the restroom and walked to the isle of 4 wooded doors. The first door had a lovely little red sign that indicated that it was occupied. So I moved on to the next. The second door was slightly ajar, so I pushed the door open and started to walk in and quickly stepped back out. A bomb had evidently exploded in there and I don't mean a metaphorical stench bomb, I mean a literal shit bomb. There was crap all over the seat, the floor and even the walls. I didn't even want to think about what it would take to make this kind of mess. I know convention food can be hard on the system, but this excrement was on a whole different level.
I quickly stepped over to the third door which had a green indicator that it was vacant. At this point I was starting to reach the point where I need to go know or I may find out what it takes to make the kind of mess I just witnessed in stall two, so I open the stall door open to find a rotund black man sitting on the throne completely naked reading a magazine. Yes, completely naked reading a magazine! In unison we both let out a "Woa!" and I quickly step back out and close the door. As I am trying to stammer an apology I see the little vacancy indicator go from green to red with a loud click of the door being locked.
I was really starting to worry about what I would find behind door number four, but at this point I was hitting critical mass and had to go. Seeing that the vacancy indicator was green on stall number four, I did a quick knock on the door to verify I wasn't going to walk in on another patron in the middle of some satanic ritual or some other act I was in no mood to deal with. Luckily the stall was vacant. Full roles of toilet tissue and crisp clean toilet seat covers in a dispenser on the wall. And to top it all off I could hear a lovely rendition of "The girl from Ipanema" playing from the speakers in the ceiling. Fancy shmancy!
