Beware of Urinal
Seeing as it's Friday, I'm too lazy to make anything up for y'all. Instead, I'm going to talk about my favorite topic - me. And I'm going to tell you about the worst date I ever went on. Be forewarned. It doesn't have a happy ending. There's no, "...we ended up laughing about it, and spent the rest of our lives together..." No. It ends with one man, walking home alone, freezing cold and soaked to the skin. Sing the blues, people. Sing the blues...
So I met this girl. We'll call her Christie. We went on a date or two, and things were going well. We were on that crucial third date, where the closing of escrow becomes a real possibility. I think my odds were looking good.
In an effort to sort of grease the rails, I decided to take her to a bar called Paddy Burke's in Boston. It's traditional Irish bar. You can get wasted and sing along to Danny Boy. Or if you're a belligerent drunk, you can have a good bar fight. It's that kind of place.
So we've got a good booth, the band is playing, she's having fun, and I'm glad that I planned ahead and bought the 36 condom "Manion Sampler". We've had a few beers and everything is going according to plan.
If this were a movie, right here is where they'd freeze the frame and cue the danger music. If this were a roller coaster, we'd be cresting the top of the hill, and you'd hear the brake release.
So need to take a leak and head off to the bathroom. The trip to the mens room is uneventful. I'm standing at the urinal, taking care of business. No problem. I've done this many times before and am fully checked out on the equipment. I finish up. I pull the lever at the top of the urinal.
And the urinal explodes. Really. All of the silver plumbing at the top of the urinal blows apart, and the feed pipe proceeds to hose down the entire mens room. Guys are freaking out and yelling, and I'm at ground zero trying to put away my magical pants weasel while getting abused by a high pressure hose.
So picture this from my date's perspective. She's sitting there, drinking a beer, trying to decide whether or not sleeping with me is a good idea. And then there's a hue and a cry (or possibly two hues) from the bathroom. Six guys come out in various stages of drenched. And last of all, her date comes out looking like he went for a swim in the mens room pool.
I sloshed back into the booth and tried to explain. I don't think she believed me. I pointed out that it was from the feed pipe, so the water was at least clean. I don't think she believed that either.
The bar was pretty apologetic about it, and gave us free beer for the rest of the night, but I was starting to get hypothermic. So after another beer, we left. I was still leaving a trail of wet footprints behind me.
I walked her home. We got to her door. I was hoping that maybe I could parlay the events into some sort of "Why don't you come in and get dried off and/or have sex?" Instead, I got "I hope you don't freeze before you get home." Yeah honey, it just got a lot colder, I thought.
No cabs would pick me up. I ended up having to walk several miles home, at night, soaking wet, in the Fall, without a jacket. I never heard from Christie again. Which was her loss.
Sometimes I still go back to Paddy Burke's. But I never use that urinal. I can't take that kind of chance. Now I just pee in a potted plant. It's safer that way.
LM
So I met this girl. We'll call her Christie. We went on a date or two, and things were going well. We were on that crucial third date, where the closing of escrow becomes a real possibility. I think my odds were looking good.
In an effort to sort of grease the rails, I decided to take her to a bar called Paddy Burke's in Boston. It's traditional Irish bar. You can get wasted and sing along to Danny Boy. Or if you're a belligerent drunk, you can have a good bar fight. It's that kind of place.
So we've got a good booth, the band is playing, she's having fun, and I'm glad that I planned ahead and bought the 36 condom "Manion Sampler". We've had a few beers and everything is going according to plan.
If this were a movie, right here is where they'd freeze the frame and cue the danger music. If this were a roller coaster, we'd be cresting the top of the hill, and you'd hear the brake release.
So need to take a leak and head off to the bathroom. The trip to the mens room is uneventful. I'm standing at the urinal, taking care of business. No problem. I've done this many times before and am fully checked out on the equipment. I finish up. I pull the lever at the top of the urinal.And the urinal explodes. Really. All of the silver plumbing at the top of the urinal blows apart, and the feed pipe proceeds to hose down the entire mens room. Guys are freaking out and yelling, and I'm at ground zero trying to put away my magical pants weasel while getting abused by a high pressure hose.
So picture this from my date's perspective. She's sitting there, drinking a beer, trying to decide whether or not sleeping with me is a good idea. And then there's a hue and a cry (or possibly two hues) from the bathroom. Six guys come out in various stages of drenched. And last of all, her date comes out looking like he went for a swim in the mens room pool.I sloshed back into the booth and tried to explain. I don't think she believed me. I pointed out that it was from the feed pipe, so the water was at least clean. I don't think she believed that either.
The bar was pretty apologetic about it, and gave us free beer for the rest of the night, but I was starting to get hypothermic. So after another beer, we left. I was still leaving a trail of wet footprints behind me.
I walked her home. We got to her door. I was hoping that maybe I could parlay the events into some sort of "Why don't you come in and get dried off and/or have sex?" Instead, I got "I hope you don't freeze before you get home." Yeah honey, it just got a lot colder, I thought.
No cabs would pick me up. I ended up having to walk several miles home, at night, soaking wet, in the Fall, without a jacket. I never heard from Christie again. Which was her loss.
Sometimes I still go back to Paddy Burke's. But I never use that urinal. I can't take that kind of chance. Now I just pee in a potted plant. It's safer that way.
LM
posted by Lance Manion at 10:58 AM
7 Comments:
She's a high maintenance kinda lady.
She probably wouldn't have put out that night, regardless the pipes exploding all over you.
Many, many parts of that story made me laugh so much. You were saying about other people's misery?
Plus, any woman who blamed the exploding pipes on you would be either very, very shallow or consummately wise and I can't decide which.
I would beware the toilets, too. They might geyser. Bring along an old shoe and poop in that if you ever return.
I'll keep this in mind as I head out to the ol' watterin hole tonight. Thanks for your topical and timely advice, Lance.
It could've been worse.
I'm not entirely sure how. But it could've been. For example, there could've been rabid pants weasels...
Sara, you're probably right, but I'm an optimist. If I had it to do over again, though, I'd have doused myself with AXE body spray just to be sure.
She's probably very wise, Ari. This sort of thing tends to happen in my world for some reason. Would you want to be associated with some guy whose superpower is the ability to make urinals explode? Makes Aquaman look good by comparison.
BRFA, I just use someone else's shoe. It's easier that way.
Ithiel, I hope your evening out wasn't sabotaged by malicious plumbing. I still think there's a way I could have worked the sympathy angle, but it just didn't come together.
No I was sure to only eliminate in potted plants that were spaced about the bar. I wasn't taking any chances either. After I got kicked out of the third bar, I called it a night though. Who knew the police would be so uptight about "Indecent Exposure".
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