To the man I walked in on at Buffalo Wild Wings,
Hey guy! Sorry, I didn’t see you sitting there. But while you’re there let’s talk.
So I’m here at our local hangout, Buffalo Wild Wings, on a bachelor party with my buddies, just day-drinking and getting a bite to eat. I’m not sure if you’re here for a special occasion as well but I would say you’re missing all the fun sitting in here. I just wanted to introduce myself, now that we’ve been through some stuff together, as well as apologize for rudely interrupting you. But mostly I just want to get into your mind, you interesting, weird, stoic enigma of a man, you!
My name is Gio and I hail from this great town in which we find ourselves today. Sorry about the interruption and all, I had no idea this was your apparent……. safe space??? Dojo? Ashram? Let’s go with ashram. (Where my yoga peeps at?) But now that we’re in your private space, I guess we can start from the beginning…
I roll up to B-Dubs (That’s what us kids call it) with the homies for my friend Matt’s bachelor party. Sure I had imbibed a couple cold ones on the golf course, but I didn’t drive. Anyway, those frosty brews had made their way to the South Pole (That’s what I call my peepee) by the time we were walking in and my friend Dino and I had to use the bathroom. With Dino in the lead, we stroll into the lavatory and he takes the second urinal as there is a man using the first one. That leaves me to resort to plan C, the toilet stall.
Side note: No one wants to use the toilet if they don’t have to. It’s more difficult at which to aim, you have to flush with your foot, and there’s a 50 percent chance there will be a big ‘ol dookie floating around in there.
As I approach the stall, I recognize the door is open about 9 inches and there is no sign of movement or sound coming from said toilet. All indications would say this stall is empty and due to the urgency of my bladder situation I didn’t think to call or write before I arrived. As I swing the stall door open I behold YOU sitting there like the sculpture of ‘The Thinker’. Only instead of contemplating on the eternal question, like the statue, you are reading what appears to be a full issue of a magazine. My eyes are drawn to your platinum-white, hirsute thighs and bulbous, equally hairy side-cheek. Your pimple-covered ass looks like somebody glued pubes to a gibbous moon. Except this moon hasn’t seen any waxing in quite a while! (Rim-shot) Where my astronomer peeps at?
After I recover from the shock of seeing a grown man sitting on a toilet reading ‘Porcelain Gentleman’s Quarterly’ or whatever you had in your hands, I holler out in surprise with a noise that is difficult to phonetically spell but I shall try. (Guoohhpp!!!) I then make a U-turn and end up awkwardly standing far too closely behind my friend Dino, leaning against his divider as he finishes up. The guy next to him thought I was one of those weirdoes trying to catch a peep as he gave a sideways glare my way. I was so caught off guard by the invasion of your privacy that I didn’t realize I was just chilling next to my bro as he fired his finishing salvos into the urinal. As your stall door still swings from my hasty exit, all I could think about was the awkwardness of the intrusion. As Urinal #1 Man and Dino finish simultaneously and wash hands, I approach the urinal and am finally left to my thoughts. I begin to calm down and reflect on our chance encounter. That is when more questions arise in my head.
Question 1: Why didn’t you lock the handle? I noticed it was intact and seemed to be operating properly. Most cultures that have doors on their commodes close and secure them while in use, so the fact that you were so open to visitors makes me question your exhibitionist tendencies.
Question 2: You heard me walking up, saw me pressing the door open slowly, and had to have noticed my shoes stepping in. So why didn’t you make an equally awkward noise or at least holler out, “Occupado!”? Just give me something to go off of, man. I would’ve even stopped in my tracks had you shouted out the most random string of words ever like, “The sport coat dances to the rhythm of the hyena’s panting”, just give out a shout!
Question 3: This is one of the weirdest observations of the encounter. Why didn’t you even look up? The entire time I was interrupting your loaf pinching, you didn’t even move your eyes. I know if someone had barged in on my reading time, I would have given a clear, incredulous, shocked look at the invader! You must have the peace of mind of a Buddhist monk and the heartbeat of a hibernating bear because you didn’t flinch a muscle. You stayed stuck to your task and I respect that. Either that magazine article was amazing or this kind of thing happens on a regular basis. I must admit, I was a bit offended that I didn’t as much as deserve a look from you though. What am I, chopped liver?
Question 4: You are at a Buffalo Wild Wings, not a waiting room. Where in the name of Margaret Thatcher’s pubic hair did you find a magazine?!? Was this all planned? Did you think to yourself this morning, “Hhmm. I’m going to a restaurant in which I love pooping. Better bring some reading material!” If that is the case, why don’t you read on your iPhone like the rest of us, psycho! Also, if you did bring a magazine to B-Dubs, what do you tell your friends you’re going to do with that thing? Oh that’s right; you don’t have friends because you poop with the door wide open!
Question 5: Why are you reading on a toilet in a Buffalo Wild Wings? You’re missing the 9 football games on big screens, the trivia game we’re all playing, and your beer is getting warm. Plus their slogan is ‘Beer. Sports. Wings’, not ‘Eat. Shit. Read’. You really should find a new locale for your strange activity, maybe like the Barnes and Noble or home…..
Although I may not enjoy or agree with your choice to drop turds in a restaurant bathroom with the door open, this is America, home of the free and land of the brave, and I will defend to my death your right to do so! God bless America!
To the man I walked in on at Buffalo Wild Wings,