The Getaway

An Opinion by Maven Quibble



Here's the layout of the third floor mens room: on the right, two enclosed toilets for privacy, on the left, two urinals, and on the back wall, two sinks. So I walk in, notice a pair of feet in one of the enclosures, and take my place in front of the left urinal, ready to go. I really had to go. And as I start, I fart. Loudly. Involuntarily. So here's what I'm thinking: I'm thinking, he heard me. I don't know who he is, maybe he's important, maybe not, but he heard me. And when he comes out, he's gonna see me, and forever associate me with farting. And I'm a professional. And I can't afford that sort of association. So what do I do? I stop whizzing. I force myself to stop whizzing. I zip up and split. No hand washing, no time. I just split.

Reputation is everything.