Eating dinner at a local Chicago BBQ it dawns on me that I should probably wash my hands, particularly because I’m famished for some of this restaurant’s famous ribs. I decide to take a piss even though I don’t really have to do so urgently. Portly men on both sides flank me. Despite being the unfortunate successor of the dreaded “middle stall” I split the Continental Divide and do my business. As was my original intent, I retreat to the sink (which is in surprisingly decent condition) and wash my hands. Being the courteous person I am, I leave the warm water running for the other 2 men as I dry my hands. The first leaves without bothering to even zip up his fly. The second is close behind him. The water is still running. I’m as surprised by their haste as much as their negligence to person hygiene. This surprise is compounded by a 3rd man who makes his entrance by flushing a toilet in the adjacent stall and again, walking by me. Dejected and dismayed, I turn off the water, being sure to use the towel as a barrier between my hand and the control valve. Again I use the same towel so as to not touch the handle on the door as I make my exit.
By the time I reach the main dining room I can recognize for certain 2 of the 3 men from the restroom seated at their respective tables. They are both fitted with plastic bibs and hungrily dive into stacks of ribs dripping with BBQ sauce. The fatter man licks the grease and residual BBQ sauce from each finger. He was the one shitting in the stall next to me only moments earlier. I go back to my table and let my family know that I’m no longer hungry.
1 comment:
Bob - perhaps these gents simply prided themselves on the cleanliness of their penii.
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