So there I was stuck in traffic in Manhattan in the middle of rush hour when the three cups of coffee and two diet cokes I consumed at the meeting decided that it was time to loosen its grip on me.
With nature calling, I stoically looked around for a bathroom and a place to park. I knew if I could park, put the flashers on and walk into a neighborhood bar and just keep going to the back, I would find a bathroom and all would be well once again.
As the fates would have it, I turned up the next street found a spot, turned on the flashers, ran out of the car, headed into “Un-named Bar” and headed to the back. I found it. Relief at last; pulling at the door, to my chagrin, it didn’t open. When I looked up I saw this sign on the men’s bathroom stall.
ARE YOU F&^%$#G kidding me I said to the owner who basically told me to take a hike or pay up.Running out, I found another place and after some considerable thought about the first place decided that instead of naming it, I would report him to whatever bureaucracy I could find to listen to me.
Nevertheless, I will come back again with a bunch of my friends and buy a few beers and we all will use his bathroom. Oh yeah, we’ll use it like it has never been used before…if you know what I mean.
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