Smooth Me
Mr. Dorksalot here, entering a fresh exhibit into the court record in the case of Life vs Me. Or Me vs Life, I can never remember which.The floor of my office building contains several men known to be of the "no-hand-wash-after-potty" clan. There's some in every building, I'm sure. More disturbingly, this floor also contains at least one member of the "piss-on-the-floor-it's-close-enough" clan. And on at least one occasion I discovered evidence of the "why-flush?" clan.
Now, to give you a better picture of the situation, combine these facts with some amusingly faulty plumbing. On a seemingly random intervals, the urinal stalls fail to stop flushing. You hit the plunger, the water wooshes down, you walk away, the water keeps wooshing, keeps wooshing, and soon enough water is pouring out all over the floor. It's no more than 5 seconds from flush to flood.
So, we're not talking about a very sanitary environment here. I've brought up the flooding problem to the building maintenance guy several times, but I get no reply and there has been no effort to fix it.
Last week one of the nice, young hispanic girls who clean up the office building after hours was waiting for me to exit the restroom so she could clean it. Wouldn't you know that the urinal would overflow at that moment. I got to be the lucky jerk to leave a huge mess for her to clean up.
Anyway, the point of all of this is to explain why I refuse to open the door to the rest room with my hands. I press the little handicapped button with my elbow and the door slowly opens automatically.
This morning while leaving the rest room, I pressed the button and the door began to slowly open. Because the door was opening on it's own, I had to stand to the side of the doorway as it opened.
The door had opened wide enough for me to sleek through, so I stepped forward into the breach, only my big clod-hopper of a shoe hit the edge of the door square on.
Undeterred, I continued pushing through the breach, expecting the door to continue opening so that I could fit through. But this didn't happen.
The door opening mechanism must have been reversed by my big clumsy feet and had now started to close. Like I said, I did not step back from the door when I bumped it, I continued through.
And, of course, this meant that the door closed on me, pinning me in the doorway.
I could feel the weight of the heavy wooden door push againt me, and the weak door-opening mechanism churned away as if it was feebly trying to crush me. Slightly exasperated, I stood there for a moment and let the door try to crush me. I figured the mechanism would eventually give, but it just churned away. It must have really hated me.
Anyway, ...so there I am, a grown man trapped in a simple doorway that a retarded chimp could navigate.
Fortunately it was easy to get free, I just grabbed the door handle and pulled it open like normal people do. And no one saw me, so I didn't suffer any embarrassment. But it was just one of those very stupid things that happen to me reasonably often.
And I knew you would all want to know about it.
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