walking along, minding my business in helsinki. then got the call.
"oh, #### me."
so i spot this big hotel. can't find the lobby loo. go to the front desk and pull out my map and ask for directions to someplacenotatoliet. i smile and thank her. " oh, where is the restroom?"
" it's around the corner. through our restaurant."
that's an x factor that doesn't bode well, historically, i'm thinking.
find it and it's half the size of my dorm room in taft. and there's a separate door for the sorry-piece of plastic uni-bucket they call a toliet. i open the door and have to curtsey with it to get behind it just to close it. just in time -- and in concert with a few coughs -- bowels evacuated. i've been walking for two hours, it's hot, there's no A/C and now i'm sweating like a pig. perfect.
i see the door lock twist. some poor bastard is trying to get in. "bad day for you, mother####er" i'm thinking. but i bee-line out and as i dance with door to get out, the guy is nearly rushing the door to get in. i'm staring at the floor the whole time, but the sick part of me does look up to steal a glance into his euro-eyes to see dreams of an age completely dashed. as he's closing the door, i hear sort of a walrus moan.
in the business, we call that a two-fer.