Saturday, July 02, 2005

asleep by 3? is this possible?

After a month of going to sleep around 5 to 8AM, I have to get myself back to a normal, human schedule and become, for the next several months, a creature of daylight.

Tonight, we begin by hitting the sack at 3AM. I just looked up the matinee showings for "Sin City," and there's one at the ungodly hour of 8:50AM. If I'm not mistaken, it ought to be a cheap ticket. I'll wake up around 7:15, shower, shave, dress, and lurch off to the matinee.

My walk to Namsan on Friday evening was partnerless, which was a bit sad. My buddy's wife had a stomachache. Can't say I blame her: I've been gastrically unstable myself, and on the way back down from the mountain, my intestines were screaming for blessed relief. I gave in and decided to hit the Hilton, which is right along the way home. Nice bathrooms, I figured.

Drenched in sweat and wearing the clenched expression we associate with potentially explosive diarrhea, I lumber-waddled into the hotel. Having never been in this particular Hilton before, I was surprised to note that it's much larger on the inside than it is outside. The interior architecture is much less boring than the bland exterior would lead you to believe.

The bathroom gave me a sense of déjà vu, though. The toilet stalls were reminiscent of those at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, DC, the place where I was eyeballed by a pervert.

What? I didn't tell you about this?

It happened while I was a wage slave at my old job in DC. Where possible, I prefer to shit in peace, quiet, and comfort, and in 1998 I was working close to the Mayflower, a hotel I passed every day when going to and from a particular DC subway station. The Mayflower boasted some very nice toilet stalls, but they had one flaw, which I discovered to my horror one day.

On that day, I was sitting on the pot and enjoying a pleasant, post-work dump. Someone a few stalls down flushed their toilet. I remember hearing footsteps, then the sound of running water as the dude washed his hands.

About two minutes later, I realized I hadn't heard the exit door open and close. I looked up.

Right into the guy's beady eye.

The toilet stall's flaw was that the door left an uncomfortably large margin between it and the jamb. In most cases, I don't care: roadside stops feature public stalls with the same problem, and I have no trouble shitting in those.

No: what made the flaw troublesome in this case was that I was being ogled by this dude, and we were the only two men in the restroom.

What I should have done, but didn't do: I should have leaped right off the stall, a rat-tail of shit hanging out of my ass, and I should have ripped open the stall door and proceeded to beat the dude to death with my shit-whip.

What did I do instead?

Ever the polite schmuck, I loudly said, "Uh, excuse me!?"

The guy went, "Oh, sorry," and walked out.

This fucker had just spent at least two minutes staring at a fat guy taking a shit. What did he think I was going to do, whack off inside the stall? Whack off while shitting? DO PEOPLE DO THAT?? Christ!

My Friday evening trip to the Hilton brought all that back to me.


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