Sunday, 31, January, 2010. It was a cold night. I had just finished working on some grad stuff. My friend. Dravis Tarby (name has been changed to protect their identity) asked if I wanted to join him to watch the NFL Pro Bowl. You all know my love of football and the Houston Texans, so I had to. Since Matt Schaub was the starting QB, I FUCKING HAD TO!
Despite my decision to eat healthier (not a NYResolution, but more of a life resolution), I decided to go to Taco Bell because it was on the way, easy, quick and I could get to Tarby’s quicker. I had little time on my hands. As I pulled up to the TB I realized that I had to relieve my bladder of its contents. Otherwise, I ran the risk of exploding like a million fucking suns. I stepped foot into the grossest TB I can remember and hit the restroom quick. I opened the door and there was a man staring back at me. He had the same plan as I did, but he executed his protocol sooner than I. Closing the door, I shamefully apologized and waited my turn. BY THE WAY, who doesn’t lock the fucking door in a public restroom?! For shame! It was one of those pushy locks. I guess he could have missed in his peeing panic. The same panic I was going through.
After five minutes of waiting for this guy to finish a really simple 30 second job, he steps out. I go bolting in. I mean, I REALLY HAD TO GO.
While I was proceeding through the necessary protocols to alleviate my pain I heard a strange hissing sound. It sounded a whole hell of a lot like those old stock audio clips they play when showing waterfalls on screen. I turned around to see what it was. What if it was a snake? Or worse, a powerful mage or ninja. To my dismay, I noticed that the toilet was overflowing. It was overflowing hard. And, it wasn’t just normal water. It was shit-filled water. I mean. The grossest kind of water known to man. This was the stuff that gave people cholera in the 19th century, and I wasn’t planning on falling in love anytime soon.
Dilemma. I’m mid-piss. But, this shit water is gaining on me. There is a small drain in the floor between me and the spewing toilet, but it’s too small to handle the carnage this stoppage is about to unleash onto the floor. I had to finish. So in a MacGruber-esque race against time I push it. I’m planning my escape. What tiles are clear? What area of the floor can I used to get to the door. This shit water might as well be lava. I’m not risking my pantlegs or shoes for this fuck that decided it would be a great idea to flush an already overflowing toilet. In a Catherine Zeta-Jones-in-Entrapment style set of maneuvers, I got the hell out of there. It was disgusting.
I had a choice. Do I order food from an obviously disgusting TB that just got a whole lot more groddy or do I tough it out, risk ecoli and get to Tarby’s in time for the Pro Bowl. I got the food.
Unfortunately, the last bastard to have been in the restroom before me stood in front of me in the queue. I fought the urge to tap him on the shoulder and as him what the fuck just happened in there. I didn’t want to embarrass him.
I’m still thinking about the “Que the fuck?” glare the employees must have had when they noticed what had happened in the RR. Would they blame me? Probably. I’m never going back for fear of food tampering/shit water contamination.