Commuting Suicide: Volume IIPosted by aquaman on September 27, 2005.
Killing myself slowly, day after day
Volume II: "Bathroom Etiquette"
Not many of these commuting stories will involve the Port Authority bathroom, because the Port Authority bathroom is a place I avoid. But my other option was pretending I spilled 7-Up.
On the way in, a young guy sprinted past me and into the stall, ignoring the homeless man arranging his multiple bags of garbage beside it. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he yelled at the urinator but in my direction.
I looked down, then left. I could almost smell his eyes trained on me. "I'd never jump in front of you," I offered, no way to ignore him.
"That's right. Cause you're cool. Nobody cuts me." I'm not sure if this was advice, a threat, or some unwritten rule, unwritten only because the instructor was illiterate.
He stuck out a hand. A bonding ritual. This was a nightmare for anyone, but I get skeeved out sharing soda cans with my closest friends. No choice but to shake on it.
It was immediately proven a wise decision when he unexpectedly turned and spat on the stall-man's back. A urinal opened and I moved quickly, then struggled to go left-handed.
"I'd better calm down," he announced, "or they'll take me away again. Ha ha ha."
I finished up, nearly washed the skin off my hands, and fled the scene. Need to start carrying an empty 7-Up bottle around. A prop to better explain the pool of liquid in my lap. Beats homeless spit.
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Wasn't Guinan the bartender on Star Trek?
Posted by 5m00.