top of page

Caught! With My Pants Down

It was a lonely night in 2017. It was a lonely night in the city of Mount Pleasant. A lonely night at Central Michigan University. A lonely night at Charles V. Park library. I had been trying oh so very hard to memorize business definitions for an hour or so. In 2017, I was a bad actor, playing the part of a business student. Sadness being the supporting actor. Executive Producer was Capitalism. I was trying to memorize my lines. Diminishing Marginal Return. Balance sheets. Uhh ... g'damnit .... LINE! Hello????? Is anyone Home?????

My prefrontal lobe checked out when I walked through the glass doors of the library three hours earlier. The lobe wandered for those three hours. It loved wandering didn't care much for anything else. It wandered through any ole door of my subconscious it pleased. Bringing back thoughts from the exploration. Past. Future. It didn't much care as long as it wasn't the tediousness of what the present, presented.

The moon poked her head through the large windows of the library - beckoning anyone who listened to come out and play. I was too busy playing my part to see Her, not to mention I had to go pee pee.

I got up from my desk and lowered my eyes. I lifted them momentarily to confirm what I already knew. Everyone here was miserable. Maybe it wasn't the case, maybe it was just me.

Some students I walked past looked strung out on some type of "ism." Heads resting in hands. Eyes buried in phones. Futures signed sealed delivered.

Some looked like an anthropomorphic Adderall. Zooming through notes and checking their phone and doing this and that and then this and then that until the whole thing mirrored a run on sentence with no commas no clauses no purpose no intention and when I find myself in an unbearable run-on sentence it’s like oh my god will this ever end but then slowly you start to remember all you need to do is put a period. Innnnnnhale. Exxxxxxxxxxxxhale. Phew, I'm back.

Before, I got the bathroom, and sitting at an island desk, was a beautiful woman. Her brunette hair fell peacefully - disappearing behind the horizon of her shoulders. She wore rimmed glasses and a soft complexion - humming along to a song.

She was gently tapping at her computer and suddenly looked up to meet my gawk. My eyes fled the scene and told my feet to pick up the pace.

I pushed open the door to the bathroom. At the sink, I ran some cool water over my hands and bent slightly to wet my face. I looked up at someone who needed less caffeine and more sleep. You won't ever get a girl like that with bags under your eyes, I thought to myself.

I took my vape out of my pocket and turned towards the direction of the stalls. As a man who copes via electronic nicotine, I had a strict policy of using bathroom stalls. I could pull a drag of that sweet, sweet vapor in a space of my own.

Both stall doors hung open. I hooked a right into the farthest stall and low and behold there was a man sitting on the toilet scrolling his phone. Dissonance short-circuited my reality and I stood in fear like a beer before an alcoholic. My brain quickly pieced the puzzle together. There was a man taking a shit with the door wide open. What in tarnation is going on.

The man looked up. Caught me directly in the eyes.

"Sorry..." he said sheepishly.

How does someone forget to close the bathroom stall?


Earlier today, Friday, August 11th in the year of our lord, 2023, I sat on the cold hollowed grounds of a public toilet. I won't reveal the identity of this toilet, but it was somewhere in the city of Traverse City. I scrolled Instagram mindlessly, sent a few funny reels to friends, and right as I went to reach for toilet paper, I heard someone tug at the stall door. It came open and some sunburned tourist looked me dead in the eyes.

"Sorry..." he said.

"It happens..." I replied.

I finished up my business. Washed my hands and looked into the mirror. The memory of the time I walked in on the poor kid in 2017 came back to me.

Life is funny.

2 comentarios

Doofanter Nyamor
Doofanter Nyamor
12 ago 2023

soMetimes it feels like my existence is a run on sentence...

Me gusta
12 ago 2023
Contestando a

it b like that sometimes

Me gusta
bottom of page