The following story only further proves that you can take the boy out of college, but you can't take college out of the boy. This is especially true when he works at a college. My new office is in a "multi use" space on campus, where we have offices for administrators, as well as classroom space and some other student facilities. Because of that, we have to share THE facilities with the students. This can lead to some strange bathroom incidents, like I had yesterday.
I was standing at the urinal, doing my business, when I realized that I was a bit phlegmy. I was faced with two options: I could either wait till I was all zipped up and spit in the sink while I washed my hands, or even perhaps in the towel after I had dried my hands. Or, I could spit into the urinal, trying to avoid spitting on my own junk, which is difficult... because it's massive and has it's own gravitational pull. The grown up option is the former, but as illustrated by the tenor of my last sentence, I think you know that I chose the latter.
Sadly my aim proved faulty, and I ended up spitting on the rim of the bottom most portion of the urinal. Let me pause a moment to describe the spit in question, and let you know why this situation destabilized so quickly. It was quite thick, and remarkably solid in color, which was a kind of chalk white. In short, it bore a striking resemblance to something else. I decided that I couldn't just leave it there, because I if I had seen it, I would have been grossed out.
So I shook and zipped, and then I stepped into the stall to get some toilet paper, to take care of my mess. Then, all of the sudden the doors flung open, and I heard the unmistakable sound of bro speak. I was faced with yet another choice. I couldn't walk out of the stall, charmin in hand, and go over and wipe the rim of the urinal. So I balled the paper up and threw it in the stall toilet. I left the stall, intending on washing my hands and exiting the scene of the crime.
That was not to be, however. As I strode past the dual urinals the one bro said to the other: "Dude! It looks like somebody jizzed all over this urinal!" Bro #2 responded with expected horror: "Aw shit! That's fucking nasty!" Finding myself standing right behind the horrified bros, I was, once again, confronted with a few choices. I could just keep on walking to the sink, wash my hands and then leave. Or, I could join in with their disgust upon seeing the offending drip on the urinal, saying something like: "Oh snap, that's wack yo." I, however, didn't get to make this choice. The decision was made by my inner 17 year old who decided to snort out a laugh right after they spoke. They turned around to regard my amusement, and I made one last decision.
I bolted. I turned and walked right to the door, and I laughed out loud all the way back to my office.