Wednesday, February 09, 2005
To Protect the Unclean
I went running at 6am today with some friends. Our typical 6am Wednesday and Friday loop around Central Park. It was gorgeous. 43 degrees and the park was full of people enjoying it. Walkers, runners, and cyclists (by the way, I hate cyclists) were all out in full force.
One of the guys told us he had a pizza smothered in tabasco sauce right before he went to bed. I knew he was in trouble. You just don't eat that much cheese and hot sauce for dinner the night before an early run. I learned that lesson the hard way at last year's Queen's Half-Marathon.
We're running and he's farting like mad, so we all make sure we're staying in front of the guy. No need for more than one of us to suffer. At the 3/4 point, we pass the Boathouse and he sees that the restrooms are open. He bolts and we decide to wait. About ten minutes later, he comes out with a horrified look on his face and tells us that that was the most disgusting thing he's ever done. I'm thinking that the restroom must have been really dirty. That wasn't the case at all.
The restroom was out of toilet paper and he didn't find out until after he'd done his business. You may shiver now.
He had three choices: just pull his shorts up, use his clothing, or use his hand. He chose his hand. He proceeds to flush the toilet about ten times, then dips his hand in the toilet water and uses the water to clean himself. Rinse and repeat. I feel dirty just writing this.
All I gotta say is I'm never shaking his hand again. Ever.