So thursday night I’m at my customer so late that I end up getting a room locally.

I sit in my room, looking at the PLC program for the device I’m installing, and get a sudden inspiration. I pack up my computer and the interface cord and head back to the customer.

When I get there I discover my inspiration is in fact meaningful, and I try it, and it works. I pack up my stuff, pleased with myself, and prepare to leave.

On the way out, i think “I could probably take a crap”. I put my computer in my truck and come back in to use the facilities.

The place is a ghost town at night, so I choose the handicapped crapper, giving me a bit extra space for the boys. I settle in, and begin to play freecell on the Palm.

Now, these crappers have the now-ubiquitous electronic flushers, once common in airports, now seen almost everywhere.
As anyone whyo has met me knows, I mostly wear black. This is not a fashion statement, I’m always working on something filthy, and black tends to hide the inevitable stains. The problem with wearing black, is that many optic sensors (the kind that are built into automatic flushers) don’t see it very well.

So mid-crap, the toilet thinks, “Well, I don’t see him anymore, he must be gone” and flushes.

I know that I have about twop seconds to move, or the boys will get dunked. SO I stand. And wait. Figuring the flush will soon be over and I can return to my business.

Except the crapper is clogged.

Now, this is one of those wall-hung crappers, and years of being abused has caused it to sag, it’s pointed front end now depositing my most recent bowel movement into my underwear like some demented, filthy gravy boat. I hop away, flip the filth from my drawers onto the floor, and watch as the last of the Mini Wheats from that morning run out of the bowl.

I pocket my Treo.

I put on my safety glasses, more to keep from dropping them than anything.

I cut off my drawers and shake the crap free in an adjoining stall

I use my drawers to clean the rest of the filth from my pants.

I toss the underwear out and zip up my damp jeans, and head back to the hotel. I was glad I’d checked in earlier, the idea of standing at the front desk damp and shit-smelling while checking in did not appeal to me. I washed my clothes in the bathtub and hung them on the towel rod to dry. I haven’t said anything about it till now, because only now do I have a spare pair of clean clothes to wear. Had I blogged this last night,. I might not have made it through friday unscathed.