I had to pee on the train today. In case you didn't know, they do have bathrooms on the train. They're similar to a port-o-potty, except imagine that port-o-potty on the back of a stick-shift truck that constantly slams on the breaks and then guns it forward. Peeing in these things takes a certain amount of talent, unless you're lucky enough to finish up while the train is stopped at a station. These restrooms are also about as clean as a port-o-potty, and it probably would have been more hygienic to piss my own pants. Anyhow, I elected to go through with the less-embarrassing option and brave the stinking toilet.
When I entered the facilities, the first thing I noticed was the seat was down. This was a terrible situation as it required me to touch the thing and lift it up. Thankfully I'm pretty skilled with my feet and I was able to lift it without using my hands. I heard over the loudspeaker that we were coming up on a station stop, so I held it in until I could safely balance myself over the pot without risking an ass-cheek touching it on an unexpected jerk. I successfully did my business and turned around to flush --but there was a godawful sign above the flusher. It read "close lid before flushing." I was too afraid to disobey the warning, visualizing something terrible like the water shooting out and spraying around the bathroom or it exploding up like a bursting geyser. There was no way I was about to take that chance! What if it got in my mouth?! So I used my handy foot once again to finagle the damn thing closed, which proved to be much more difficult since it was flush with the wall. Eventually I got it closed, but by then the train was off and jerked me around the room.
I proceeded to the sink, which was directly next to me. Now these faucets basically make hand-washing a moot point, since it requires you to touch a little button under the faucet itself to get the water to come out. Theres none of that "hold it down with your forearm" crap or even "hold it down with a paper towel" --you have to touch it with your bare fingers. Well I went for the ill-placed button and can you believe no frigging water came out?! I tried and tried and managed to squeeze out nothing more than half a drop of liquid. I've never wanted to wash my hands so bad in my life, and here I was with a full container of soap and no water. Oh, but it gets better.
I gave up and exited the shithole. You better believe that every inch of my face started itching like hell, specifically because I really couldn't touch it after not being able to sanitize myself. Then it happened. As I'm standing by the doors waiting to arrive in NYC, I smell something odd, yet familiar. I sniffed around until I determined it was my fingers --the fingers on the hand that touch the dried-up sink. I sniffed it over and over, searching the catalogue of scents in my brain. Suddenly it dawned on me... Chapstick. My fingers smelled like the original plain brand Chapstick, in all its menthol glory. It didn't just smell though, it reeked! Did someone really smear chapstick all over the faucet button? It didn't feel lubed up. Maybe some asshole jammed a stick up there and that's why the water wouldn't come out!? Whatever the explanation was, my hands still reeked.
As soon as I got to the office I beelined to the bathroom for a good old-fashioned, touchless sensor hand washing. I scrubbed myself down, but the terrible smell still stuck around. I even coated myself in lotion, but to no avail. Eventually, hours later, it faded away. I may never know why that happened, but I hope you all got a great big laugh out of my mis-adventure! Til next time ;-)
OMG!...lmao, I would have died!, except I usually have hand wipies with me..."he who laughs last, laughs best"...I'm still laughing!
ReplyDeleteThat is too funny!!! LOL!!!
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