A few years ago, I was heading downtown for an appointment. I stopped and grabbed a 20oz mocha from a coffee shop on the way. When I got downtown, I noticed I was about 20 minutes early for the appointment. I called the receptionist from the front door and got buzzed into the building. I figured I would spend a few minutes in the restroom and catch up on some “reading” on my phone. I entered the cleanest stall, set the mocha down on the toilet paper dispenser and continued with my business. I started playing backgammon on my phone and didn’t notice that the mocha was very slowly inching towards the edge of the dispenser it was sitting on. There must have been some small vibration in the building causing the bathroom stall to shake every so slightly. I think you see where this is going.
After about 10 minutes, the law of gravity took effect, and the mocha fell off it’s perch landing face down, top off, directly into my underwear which was of course, around my ankles. My response was pure and utter horror as I watched my underwear, socks and jeans soak up the coffee and form a growing puddle of steaming brown liquid on the floor. I was speechless as the puddle grew and seeped into the other stalls. For some crazy reason, the floor drain was over by the sinks, so the puddle didn’t move, it just stared back at me as if to say “so now what are you gonna do?” I regained whatever composure you can when your entire bottom half is full of hot chocolate and caffiene, and got dressed. The idea of cleaning up the massive puddle was way too much for my brain to handle, so I grabbed a huge handful of paper towels and got out of there quickly, the way you walk away from a store display that you just knocked over.
I waddled out to the parking lot and sloshed into my car. I tried soaking up the coffee with the towels but it seemed to do no good. Twenty ounces is a lot more coffee than it looks like when you’re wearing it. I noticed that I still had about 5 minutes before my appointment, so I called up my client. When he answered I made up a story about how I was going to need to reschedule as I was having some car trouble. He mentioned that the receptionist had already told him I was in the building and he wanted to know what was reallly going on. I had to come clean and explain to him that I decided to wear my coffee that morning rather than drink it. After he finished laughing, he mentioned that he saw the disaster in the bathroom and was relieved to know it was only coffee, and that he wouldn’t have to call the hazardous materials team.
I drove home soggy, brown, and sadly missing the morning buzz for which the mocha was originally intended. I quickly showered, changed and came back downtown for the appointment. When I finally got into my client’s office, he offered me some coffee with a large smile on his face. I hope the building’s janitor found as much humor in this story as we did.
Hey, you should not be reading these “dirty: (really?) stories, in which your own father had a very active rule.
You must understand, the story you recall is not quite as clean as you describe. Remember, clean means clean, not the red stuff is here, the brown stuff is hear, the light brand stuff–you get it?
Please be sure to tell me if you’re not prepared for this kind of “acciiddeennttaall.”