Dan Stewart
03-24-2009, 11:38 PM
Well, I figured John and the team need some extra filler to get things rolling around here so the following is a TRUE story that occured about 6 months ago.....
My wife, two of my daughters, and I were heading back home after visiting the once a month flea market a few miles from our hometown. Several years back, I had my gall bladder removed and occasionally have times when....well.....I need to find a bathroom with a quickness.
As we were approaching the exit leading us back into town, the old gut started to let me know that "the time is now".
Looking around for a nice place to unload the vile concoction brewing in my intestines, I saw my sanctuary......Scholtsky's.
Mind you, this was about lunchtime on a Friday so it was pretty busy in there. There were office workers and blue collar joes gobbling down whatever the combo meal of their choice was.
I pull in and park the car. I jump out and head inside like a man on a mission. As I enter the restroom, I notice that it is a "single serve" facility.
No problem, I close the door and push the button to lock the door then proceed to unleash a fury upon this poor ceramic beast of burden sitting there on the floor.
Being a man who appreciates spending time on the good things in life, I don't get in any hurry to take care of the transaction between me and "American Standard". I listen to the music that is being pumped in over the speaker there in the restroom and realize it is the Beatles "Strawberry Fields" playing. Being in a much better mood, now that my internal organs are approving with my decision to give them a furlough from building pressure, I start singing along with the song.
About this time, the bathroom door flies open and a man dressed in business casual attire starts to enter. He quickly stops and begins staring at me. Without missing a single note singing "Strawberry Fields forever" I smile at the guy and give him a wink. He didn't say a word, but the look on his face was that of what I could only describe as horror. You know, like the horror on a kid's face when he or she encounters his or her parents having sex.
He quickly turns around and exits.
Now, I'm still sitting there taking care of business, singing "Strawberry Fields" with a Chessire grin on my face and I start wondering how he opened the door since I clearly remembered locking it when I came in.
So, as I am sitting, still singing of course (I like a good diddy) looking this door over when I notice a bolt latch about 2 feet above the handle.........
Oops.
I guess the button lock on the handle was "out of order" and I was suppossed to lock the door using the bolt latch.
Anyway.....
I finish my business, wash up, and head out the door. Taking my time of course. As I walk out the restaurant I see the guy over by his colleagues and I couldn't help myself.....
I started whistling "Strawberry Fields" as I walked to the outside door. Grinning from ear to ear.
My wife, two of my daughters, and I were heading back home after visiting the once a month flea market a few miles from our hometown. Several years back, I had my gall bladder removed and occasionally have times when....well.....I need to find a bathroom with a quickness.
As we were approaching the exit leading us back into town, the old gut started to let me know that "the time is now".
Looking around for a nice place to unload the vile concoction brewing in my intestines, I saw my sanctuary......Scholtsky's.
Mind you, this was about lunchtime on a Friday so it was pretty busy in there. There were office workers and blue collar joes gobbling down whatever the combo meal of their choice was.
I pull in and park the car. I jump out and head inside like a man on a mission. As I enter the restroom, I notice that it is a "single serve" facility.
No problem, I close the door and push the button to lock the door then proceed to unleash a fury upon this poor ceramic beast of burden sitting there on the floor.
Being a man who appreciates spending time on the good things in life, I don't get in any hurry to take care of the transaction between me and "American Standard". I listen to the music that is being pumped in over the speaker there in the restroom and realize it is the Beatles "Strawberry Fields" playing. Being in a much better mood, now that my internal organs are approving with my decision to give them a furlough from building pressure, I start singing along with the song.
About this time, the bathroom door flies open and a man dressed in business casual attire starts to enter. He quickly stops and begins staring at me. Without missing a single note singing "Strawberry Fields forever" I smile at the guy and give him a wink. He didn't say a word, but the look on his face was that of what I could only describe as horror. You know, like the horror on a kid's face when he or she encounters his or her parents having sex.
He quickly turns around and exits.
Now, I'm still sitting there taking care of business, singing "Strawberry Fields" with a Chessire grin on my face and I start wondering how he opened the door since I clearly remembered locking it when I came in.
So, as I am sitting, still singing of course (I like a good diddy) looking this door over when I notice a bolt latch about 2 feet above the handle.........
Oops.
I guess the button lock on the handle was "out of order" and I was suppossed to lock the door using the bolt latch.
Anyway.....
I finish my business, wash up, and head out the door. Taking my time of course. As I walk out the restaurant I see the guy over by his colleagues and I couldn't help myself.....
I started whistling "Strawberry Fields" as I walked to the outside door. Grinning from ear to ear.