3 Doors Down

3 December, 2010 (12:00) | Memories

Alright, this memory is going to be a little graphic, but i have to live with it, so I’m going to share it. With an opening sentence like that, how could you not read more?

So while I was at pitt, I lived in Lothrop Hall. Lothrop Hall had disgusting bathrooms and the stalls did not offer much for privacy. If I remember correctly, it may have even only been a sheet in front of you. Either way, it wasn’t be best place for a #2. The Cathedral of Learning however, had an awesome 2nd story bathroom. It was very hard to get to, so it made it typically pretty sanitary, but it also had the longest hallway of stalls that I think I’ve ever come across. There must have been 15 stalls on either side. You don’t want to pick the close ones, because those are for people that had emergencies, and you don’t pick the ones all the way at the end, because that’s too obvious and frequented. Somewhere in the middle though, you find the perfect balance of cleanliness and privacy. The problem is, others, 1 gentlemen in particular, thought the same thing I did.

So I sitting in one of the right side stalls, doing my thang. Every once in a while, someone will walk by, but that doesn’t bother me. It’s only when a dude takes the stall directly across from me that I’m a little perturbed. I hear some strange noises. I peer through the crack in my door to see what’s up. This skinny black dude is sitting on the toilet, with the door open, stroking his wookie. WTF. I don’t know what his logic was with the door, but when he’d hear someone coming through, he’d shut it, at least enough to prevent seeing what he was doing, but then he’d open it back up again.

I tried to ignore it. I don’t know what triggered it, maybe he didn’t see me at first, but he got up and came over to my door and knocked on it. I didn’t respond and kept my head down. He was peaking through the cracks at me and I think he mumbled something, but I have no idea what. I think he was crazy. After perhaps a second knock, he retreated back to his stall, I assume to continue his work.

What he probably didn’t realize was the implications of his actions. He’s stuck with me now. There’s no way I’m leaving the security of my stall. I have my cell phone and my vocal chords if he tries anything. I’m there for the duration.

I have no idea if he finished his deed or not, but he did end up leaving after a while. I gave it a good buffer time before I left. I thought he might be waiting for me outside, so I chose a public and quick exit.

I never returned to those stalls, I think. If I did, I remember thinking to never go back during that same time frame. Too much privacy has tainted it.


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