Monday, December 13, 2010

There Is Something Wrong with This Toilet.

The other day, I had a Spanish test. For me, Spanish comes pretty naturally, and I'm generally good at it, if I do say so myself, so I was finished with my test pretty quickly. When I was finished, I brought up my test to the teacher's desk and asked if I could go to the bathroom (in Spanish, yo!) and she said yes (in Spanish, yo!), so I thanked her (in Spanish, yo!) and left the room.

Now, in the pockets of my blue-green-teal-bluegreen coat, I carry various items, from an anti-polio button (which is now ON the pocket, thank you very much), to a big, blue highlighter, to a bag of rubber bands, to a couple of caution tape bandages, to a plastic horse (NOTE: The plastic horse was found in my pocket when I was in seventh grade, then ate a hole in my pocket later in the year, and I had to leave it at home, on my night table. I haven't seen him since. My hypothesis is that he left to see his boyfriend, Roxy, in England. I found Roxy, a Barbie horse, then lost him. I don't know where he is. I guess they're both in England. Someday, I'll post about them. Maybe.). This knowledge will come in handy later, making the rest of this story seem a lot less weird.

I went to the bathroom. I entered the bathroom. I counted the stalls (six), left out the handicapped one (five), then found the third one (the middle one). I opened the door. I went inside. I hung my coat on the hook on the backside of the door (those things become useful at wonderful times!). I pulled down my pants, etc. I sat down on the toilet. I did my business.

(NOTE: I was not that animated or excited about going to the bathroom, nor was the toilet smiling at the wall. Or you. Probably.)

When I was finished with my business, I pulled up my pants etc., put on my coat, and slammed my foot down on the lever thing that flushes the toilet. And slammed my foot down on the lever thing that flushes the toilet. And slammed my foot down on the lever thing that flushes the toilet. And kept my foot there for about three minutes, waiting for the toilet to just flush already because if I didn't go back within the next minute or so then the class would probably either assume that I went to get something to eat, was doing drugs, or was terminally ill. Eventually, I gave up. I took a long piece of toilet paper, stretched it across the top of the toilet paper dispenser (which looked something like this:

except without a smile. The toilet paper rolls were, however, visible, and looked a little like giant eyes. Creepy. Also, the toilet paper does not have those nice little rippy places. You have to do that on your own. I just needed a way to make it more identifiable as toilet paper.), and wrote the following in blue highlighter, which I had in my right coat pocket:

I then hung it between the handle of the toilet and the ladies' garbage bin thing that is attached to the wall between the stalls. After doing this, I awkwardly left the stall and went to the sink to wash my hands. While I was washing in water that was too freaking hot (I'm highly surprised that my hands didn't burn right then and there) for washing, a girl walked into the bathroom. She walked past me. She stepped into my stall. She read the note. She went into the next stall.

Another life saved by none other than me. Yes. I plan to go back into that bathroom at some point in the near future to check on the toilet. Maybe it will have been fixed by now. Maybe it won't. I hope it is fixed. It probably isn't.


I'm so delighted that you have something to say! Or maybe you don't have something to say. That's okay too. I understand.