Door barges open after he has trouble with the key. The restrooms are locked, since my floor is shared by multiple companies and the building management doesn't want the general public to just waltz in off the street and shoot up. That wouldn't be respectable. Anyway, guy comes in grumbling to himself. I catch 'Come ON!..
I hear his fly zip down then this:
'Oh....OH....ARGGGHHHHH....MOTHERFUUUUU!!!!' as he is urinating. This is followed by several deep sighs of pain and more illegible grumbling. Then more grunting.
He zips up and walks out WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS!!!
Now, I've witnessed a lot of guys not washing their hands and, while it still irks me, this guy obviously has a major health problem (either urinary tract infection or kidney stones being passed) that probably deserves a more sanitary approach. What really got me, was after I was done I washed and dried my hands and grabbed the door handle. You know...that same handle dirty, sickly, possibly crazy guy just opened after not washing up.
I let go and go back to rewash my hands when another dude walks in. No idea who he is, but as I'm washing my hands he takes a leak. On my way out I grab another paper towel to open the door with and the guy who just took a leak follows me out WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS!!!
What the fuck is going on here? A men's room is one of the nastiest places on earth - even for upscale places - and there is an alarming number of guys that exit without washing and seem to have no problem with it. This guy said 'How's it going?' as we exited, then went and punched in a code on the front door of his office. Not only is he not washing his hands, but he's using those same hands on something a whole bunch of other people use multiple times a day. Does he not see a problem with this?
Story 2: My nightly commute makes it necessary for me to navigate the seedy Downtown Crossing terminal that runs underneath Macy's. Since it's open to the public, there are usually a number of homeless, indigent people huddling inside, trying to keep warm or get some sleep on the benches.
Tuesday night, I do my usual route down the stairs. Maybe a third of the way down a stench literally smacks me in the face. It was so nasty and brutal I actually stopped in my tracks and had to breath through my mouth to keep from gagging. These particular stairs go down halfway, take a right turn, go down a few more then take a left turn before you get to the main hallway. When I take the first right turn I nearly run over two police officers who were standing with their backs to me.
I step around them and see another at the bottom of the stairs. Sprawled on the stairs between the three officers is a homeless man with no pants on. Lying between the man and the cop at the bottom of the stairs is massive amounts of human shit. Logic dictates these cops would much rather be involved in a hostage negotiation or a shoot out in a narrow back alley than dealing with this.
As I quickly step by, the man looks at me, drunkenly says 'I've had better days' and smiles. Someone's missing the shame gene. I also notice that one of the officers has taken his winter coat and covered up the guy from the waist down. While I mentally thanked him for sparing me more trauma than I've already experienced, I can't help but wonder what happened to that coat. If it were me it would be incinerated, since that was without doubt the nastiest thing I had ever smelled or seen in my life. I felt like I was infected with something and showered as soon as I got home.
Michael Jackson walking around in a surgical mask doesn't seem so crazy any more. I'm ready to slap on surgical gloves whenever I leave the house. As Megatron says in Transformers, 'Humans, how disgusting!' That's right, I just quoted a toy.
Onto more positive things
I was texting a friend of mine who lives in enemy territory yesterday and he passed on some highly interesting information. I noticed an ESPN story about the Sox and Twins talking Santana trade. I forward the link to my Sox friend who is living in New York City and he immediately texts me with 'Is that for real?' and we go back and forth about how potent the rotation would be even without Lester or Buchholz.
Which leads us to this exchange.
Him: Dude, completely forgot to tell you this, but my wife just got a job with the CFO of Major League Baseball.
Him: Yeah, she met Bud Selig yesterday and he had to introduce himself with 'I'm not as bad as everyone says I am'. Imagine having to introduce yourself like that.
Me: I usually have to say something like that. What are her perks?
Him: Check this. She has a card she takes everywhere. If we are at a ballpark and decide to go to a game, we get in free as long as it's not a sellout. Oh, and she gets free passes to all the World Series games. Too bad she didn't have this job last fall.
It went on from there, but my point is this guy is going to get one hell of a Christmas gift from me this year. And maybe his wife, too. Can never be too careful.
Today's distraction: Some cool backmasking. That means songs you can play forward and backwards. John Lennon seemed to be the master at it. The Britney Spears one is kinda creepy, but looking back it was probably foreshadowing. Really liked the Pink Floyd one, too. Nice to know someone had a sense of humor in that band.