Bathroom blow-ups...
In my haze from my recent embarrassment, I omitted sharing an extraordinary bathroom blunder I experienced at work two weeks ago.
During my routine bathroom break midday at the school where I work, I strutted to my usual, cold, but private, bathroom down the hall from me. This quaint bathroom is in one of the school's exclusive hallways, which makes it all the more desirable: it is always vacant. Unfortunately, when I entered the bathroom, I noticed MY stall was occupied. Begrudgingly, I opened the door to the next stall and did my business.
Now, some have an opinion on whether it's best to "zip up" before flushing or after. I have always chosen to do so after to allow for more flexibility when flushing the toilet with my foot. This time, my decision came back to bit me in the butt--literally. When I finished, I lifted my foot to flush the toilet. But, by the time my foot reached the floor, I heard it: the gurgling sound. And then, it happened!
After a increasingly loud gurgle, the toilet regurgitated all of its assets all over me. Unfortunately, to escape the haunted stall, I had to walk towards the monster toilet to open the door.
In my frantic state, I failed to notice the student standing at the sink. As the toilet continue to gurgle, growl, and groan, thoughts ran through my head: do I climb the door to escape and avoid walking towards the problem or do I tough it up, step towards it and open the door. I decided on neither. Rather, I began with a scream, grabbed my unzipped pants up to my armpits, stepped towards the toilet, opened the stall door, and escaped with a steady flow of toilet juice behind me.
And then, I looked up, pants down and screaming. And, there she was: a student. And, she saw it all. With nothing else but my pride to lose, I zipped up, squeezed out my pants and told her "to never tell anybody."
Then, with my pride still in the bathroom, I squeaked with a wretched smell across the school to the high school office in pursuit of sympathy and a pair of pants. My only salvation: "Ask the track coach if he has a pair of track pants to loan you."
Squeaking, I trekked across the hall again to find the coach. Meanwhile, my pants were dripping with toilet gunk. And, after barging through a class full of students to retrieve my pants, I was properly clothed in a pair of bright blue plastic sweats.
And, that began my day.
During my routine bathroom break midday at the school where I work, I strutted to my usual, cold, but private, bathroom down the hall from me. This quaint bathroom is in one of the school's exclusive hallways, which makes it all the more desirable: it is always vacant. Unfortunately, when I entered the bathroom, I noticed MY stall was occupied. Begrudgingly, I opened the door to the next stall and did my business.
Now, some have an opinion on whether it's best to "zip up" before flushing or after. I have always chosen to do so after to allow for more flexibility when flushing the toilet with my foot. This time, my decision came back to bit me in the butt--literally. When I finished, I lifted my foot to flush the toilet. But, by the time my foot reached the floor, I heard it: the gurgling sound. And then, it happened!
After a increasingly loud gurgle, the toilet regurgitated all of its assets all over me. Unfortunately, to escape the haunted stall, I had to walk towards the monster toilet to open the door.
In my frantic state, I failed to notice the student standing at the sink. As the toilet continue to gurgle, growl, and groan, thoughts ran through my head: do I climb the door to escape and avoid walking towards the problem or do I tough it up, step towards it and open the door. I decided on neither. Rather, I began with a scream, grabbed my unzipped pants up to my armpits, stepped towards the toilet, opened the stall door, and escaped with a steady flow of toilet juice behind me.
And then, I looked up, pants down and screaming. And, there she was: a student. And, she saw it all. With nothing else but my pride to lose, I zipped up, squeezed out my pants and told her "to never tell anybody."
Then, with my pride still in the bathroom, I squeaked with a wretched smell across the school to the high school office in pursuit of sympathy and a pair of pants. My only salvation: "Ask the track coach if he has a pair of track pants to loan you."
Squeaking, I trekked across the hall again to find the coach. Meanwhile, my pants were dripping with toilet gunk. And, after barging through a class full of students to retrieve my pants, I was properly clothed in a pair of bright blue plastic sweats.
And, that began my day.
posted by Christy F. | 10:44 AM
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