What cruel and unusual punishment it is trying to avoid contracting diseases from public toilets.
What stands between humanity and an extinction level event is a flimsy paper protector on the seat. Isn’t this the same paper I never put in gifts? If it’s supposed to protect me, why does it immediately fall apart at the first sign of moisture? Anyway, I learned getting this protection in place is only half the battle. After what seemed like an eternity of shifting, sliding, and flapping it up and down. like I’m setting up a blanket for a beach picnic, it’s finally ready. All my efforts are wasted though when I turn to sit. Somewhere between dropping my pants and beginning my final approach, the unthinkable happens. The electronic eye of the automatic flusher, ever watching, strikes. In my vulnerable state, it takes revenge for a lifetime of witnessing horrors. The toilet flushes. Along with the water, my protection, gone. In one deft motion, like a well practiced magician, removing the tablecloth without disturbing the fine china, the seat is exposed.
I’m in mid-fucking descent when I realize what happened. My ass, my precious ass, is about to touch down in a combat zone of germ warfare. The mental alarms blare! My nervous systems roars to life, firing signals to my legs to stop the descent. My heart, pounding, my body tenses, slows and squeaks to a stop, like a freight train. For a moment, I think it’s going to be ok, but it all goes wrong. I contort and twist away, instead of up. My body engages in what I can only imagine looks like an outtake from Weekend At Bernie’s…2. I fall in between the wall and toilet like a rag doll.
My hand plunges into the toilet while my ass, one cheek on the wall, the other on the floor, comes to a streaking halt. Panic takes hold realizing I might be stuck. I’m going to die here. I feel like the guy in the end of Saw, who isn’t Cary Elwes. This is a silly nightmare I think. “Wake up.” I say. But I don’t, because I’m not sleeping. This is real, and it’s all mine.