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The miracle of life.

I make what I consider, given my vocal propensity to do the opposite, a marked effort to abstain from writing about particularly vulgar or insensitive things. It has been, I think, a good policy so far. Certain experiences, however, simply beg to be shared. Especially when they involve restroom visits.

It was a routine procedure, using the urinal. One that really requires no thought. The restroom was empty, at least as far as I could tell. I didn't really expect anyone to be using it so late at night, though. It was a stuffy, mostly unventilated room. The air was especially thick, given the frequent visitation by Barton Springs swimmers. I approached the urinal and began. It began to dawn on me how exhausted I actually was. A long day after a long series of days. A man and his son entered and shuffled behind me, making their way to a stall. "Do you have to pee, daddy?" The boy asked. "Uh," the man said. "No, but I think you do?" They entered the stall and I looked around lazily.

I am not necessarily afraid of flying bugs, I just have a definite aversion to them. It's my belief that if a bug can fly, there is a high probability that it can do something like sting you. I also believe that if a bug can fly, it will always fly at you. And as soon as I saw it, it did. It was not a small bug by any means. It was a winged behemoth, buzzing an erratic course and struggling to keep its immense carapace in flight. It was also extremely close to me.

I suddenly had to devise and execute an expert plan that would allow me to finish my business and also prevent the giant bug from landing on me. Various options presented themselves in my head. I could smack the damned thing out of the air and continue in peace. I could put myself away and get away. Instead, I panicked. I jumped back away from the bug--and the urinal--with my hands flailing wildly trying to scare the bug away without touching it. Meanwhile, concurrent with the emergence of my survival instincts, the rest of me danced a panic dance around the bathroom.

The toilet flushed and the latch on the door opened. I froze for a moment as the door started to open. My eyes wide open. My hands in the air. My junk hanging out the front of my pants. I spun on my heel as the boy and his father exited the stall. After a brilliantly played coughing fit, I made myself presentable and washed my hands. "Hey," I said to the man, nodding my head. "How's it going?" "Not too bad," the man said, raising an eyebrow. Thoroughly pleased at the deft handling of the situation, I exited the restroom.

Some days just really dig into the low points.

Comments

Carolynn said…
What a horrifying experience.
October 26, 2011 at 9:18 AM
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