Potty Humor

I have to confess - I love the handicap stall. It's like having your own little room within a room.

Think about it - you get side bars, a separate sink, ample leg space - what is not to love?

This is where the joy of the story ends...

It was my junior year at Baylor. I was just a knuckle-head on his way home for Thanksgiving - cruising down I-20 trying to get to Sweetwater.

Let me pause... clarification is needed before I continue. Handicap stalls are the caddilac of public restroom amenities. Since being introduced to the professional world (and working in sales where you are out of the office for a good portion of each day) I need to let you in on something that can make your caddilac even better.

When in need of a public restroom - go for a hotel. Not a gas station, truck stop, WalMart (gross) or Wendy's. Head for the Hampton Inn or the nearest Sheraton. Why? Lobbies of nice hotels have very clean and seldom used restrooms.

Think of it this way - if you want to find a caddilac - are you going to go for this beauty?

Thats what the local Flying J has to offer. However, the hotels have brand new caddys just waiting. Okay, back to the story...

I was on my way home when I felt my stomach move. It wasn't really a move - it was one of those gurgles you feel just as much in your throat as in your stomach. I needed to find a "caddilac."

I knew the lay of this road well and a Love's Truck Stop was just ahead. As I moved closer to the exit the gurgling stopped - only because I felt it move south.

DISCLAIMER - Forgive my graphic description... hang in there... it gets better.

I think at that moment I knew what a water balloon felt like just before popping.

By the grace of you know who I managed my way to the truck stop, eased from my Geo Prizm LSI, and waddled through the store to the men's room. As I opened the door I was taken back by a line of men... a line? This is the Men's room! There are no lines in the Men's Room - you take care of it and get out of the way. I felt like the last guy to get in line for the Star Wars premiere... although the two stalls were a mere 10 yards away they appeared 100.

So what do you do? What could I do? I squeezed.

The line budged. One by one the truckers left their mark. Tall ones, short ones, fat ones and fatter ones - they each went ahead and prepared the place.

About 15 minutes later I was face to face with two stall doors. I didn't care which opened. When the handicap door came open and a hispanic man emerged, I was more than pleased.

So I built my bridge. Necessary in ALL public restrooms.

Then - paydirt. Jackpot. Relief. No side bars needed.

Tick tock, tick tock. Phew.

I knew people were waiting, so I went about my business.

Then I heard this noise. It was like a singing... humming... something tense. It sounded forced or irritated. It sounded just outside my door! Was this man trying to signal to me that I had taken my time and should move on? Was he trying to make me leave?

I am not a spiteful person - but I do have a healthy respect for spite. I waited for this stall - I am going to take my time.

The singing grew louder. More tense.

I cleared my throat. Eh - that will shut him up. That will tell him I know he's here.

Louder!

Okay, I was just about ready to share my thoughts. I peered under to see where the guy was... and saw... a wheelchair?

Uh-oh. I am tearing up the handicap stall while a handicap person wait on me.

So I think this - I am bigger than this. I can win this. I do have a decided advantage.

Knowing he is preparing a "So you're the guy in the handicap stall who isn't handicapped" face, I put on my best "I crap where I want to - you can piss off" face and open the door.

Before I can deliver my face he delivers a bigger blow - he rams me in the shins with his chair!

That bloody muppet! The pain! Shin-shot by a guy in a wheel chair! I folded like Nancy Kerigan and stumbled to the sink as he went into the stall.

Moral of the story - there's not one. I still use the handicap stall - still prefer it. Just make sure to turn up your spidey-sense.