Throughout my 37 years of life, two potential catastrophes have haunted my brain:
A. Being locked in a shopping mall.
B. Overflowing a toilet in either a public place or somebody’s house.
Moments ago, B nearly came to be. I’m still shaken.
I’m working here in the Sunburst coffee shop near Union Square. The food is OK, the wireless excellent, the coffin-sized bathroom, ahem, nasty. But I had to go—really had to go. So I entered, locked the door and lined the toilet with paper towels—the only available liner. After finishing my task, a few paper towels fell into the water. I flushed, then watched in horror as the water began to rise. Faster and faster and faster. I reached for the plunger, a nasty black model, circa 1964. I plunged and plunged and plunged, and just as the water cradled the seat—whooosh! Down it went.
Saved, by a hair.
Man, I hate bathrooms. Give me $1 million or the ability to never again use a toilet, I take the superpower …
* NOTE: The photo above is not the toilet here.
