Dec. 10, 2006
Oh crap! Did I just use a bidet? My old man would roll over in his grave. I know it's technically not a bidet; it's doesn't look like a porcelain water fountain for dogs. But it's just the same. A cold stream up your cornhole is a cold stream up your cornhole.
Oh man...all I did was pull over at this rest stop to use the toilet. I knew I shouldn't have eaten that Beef & Cheddar sandwich earlier. Then again, I doubt that the residents of Northwestern Ohio farm country understand the subtleties of cuisine that doesn't grind through your colon like a glacier.
All I did while I was passing this monumental dump was bend over from sheer exhaustion and rest my head on my lap. And since there is no rest for the weary, I was rewarded with the horrific sound of the automatic toilet flushing because it thought I was no longer occupying the throne.
Oh God! I hope no one heard me whelp like a scared puppy when I caught a cold gust right in the O-ring. It's late enough, right? Ugh...there's such an overwhelming sense of shame. I now understand a Frenchman's timidity in the face of combat. Alright, alright. Cool it. Get yourself together. Dry off the nether region.
Ok. I think we're good. I don't hear feet shuffling around. No urinals flushing, no sinks running. Not a soul around at 3:30 a.m. Just like it should be. Good thing walls can't talk. Too bad they can display graffiti with frank depictions of gay sex, though. Ick. Why did I have to see that afterward?
Alright, alright. You're not caught with your pants around your ankles anymore. No one is any the wiser. Just get in your car and drive to Chicago like you planned. Get out of the stall, get out of town. Remember to wash your hands.
Oh dear Lord...what is that guy doing? Why would someone come into a bathroom and stand there motionless, smoking a cigarette? Son of a bitch! I made eye contact. I can't think of a scarier trucker than this guy. Remember back in grade school when a dentist would give you red chewing tablets to show you where the plaque was forming? It looks like this guy chewed some, except they were black and tobacco-flavored.
And I wouldn't have had to see it if he didn't flash me a knowing smile when I looked him in the face for a second. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Ok. Washing hands. Washing hands. Don't look in the mirror at Denim Dan and his mesh hat. Ok. Done. Leave.
"Do you know the Trix Rabbit?" he said, "Tell him to come handle Harry's 10-9er."
What the hell is that? Is that like gay trucker CB slang or something? I'm out of here. I don't need a paper towel. For the love of God I have pants. This is NOT going to turn into a truckstop Deliverance.
RUN!
What would have happened if I didn't run away.