Dropped my kids off at camp this morning. Was looking for a coffee shop. Guy at the UPS Store suggested the Moonbeam Cafe. “Great drinks,” he raved. “And they’ll let you sit there for hours.”
OK. Sounded wonderful.
I pulled up, entered, ordered a (egad!) $5 mocha-something-something beverage. Went to use the bathroom. 
Walked in. It was a small little room. Clean, fine. A toilet. No urinal. There was some paper already in there. Yawn—no biggie. I peed. Flushed. All sounded fine. But the sound of running water failed to cease. It ran and ran. I opened the lid. The bowl was stuffed with toilet paper, and a dollop of water had trickled in. Oh, no. I took off the top of the fixture, glanced down. Fooled around with the main release. Nothing. No water was rising into the tank. Crap, crap. I now either had to tell the owner that his toilet wasn’t filling up (which would make him think that I (dear God) pooped or I could quickly return to my seat and pretend nothing transpired.
I tiptoed out, started to walk back to my laptop. I saw the owner behind me. He clearly noticed that I’d been in there for a jarringly lengthy spell. He held a bottle of spray Lysol in his hand. What to do? What to do?
I bolted.
Literally, I unplugged my laptop, shoved it in my backpack and exited, $5 cup of mocha-something-something beverage in hand. I drove over to the nearby Starbucks, where I now sit. The place is cold, charmless and blaring a really awful song, Always, by the Boxer Rebellion. Worst of all, my $5 cup of mocha-something-something beverage is hidden beneath my table. I’m not exactly sure what to do with it. The employees are hovering, there are no spare Starbucks cups to be found.
And I’m afraid to ever flush a toilet again.
