Dear Idiot: Get out of the can!

Dear Possibly Homeless Person in the South Station Bathroom:

Alright, if I'm using the crapper in South Station it's not voluntary. Unless I'm pandhanding for a living, or a Metro streethawker (a distinction without a difference), I have a nice office somewhere in town that houses my nice warm, clean, and familiar restroom in which I can do my business. I'm not risking all sorts of exotic diseases, mugging, and/or romantic advances for the jollies of it.

If I'm going to the crapper in South Station it's mission critical.

So WTF's the idea with camping out in the john? Got into town the other day and determined that it was not wise to risk the Red Line and needed to make an emergency stop in the South Station bathroom. Well, I get there and there's already three people in line for the four stalls, which were all occupied.

So we all wait for a couple of minutes, nonchalantly squirming as issues, well, force themselves.

Finally the first guy in line, an older, non-english speaking man whom I'm betting did not have an office somewhere in town, took to banging on the stall doors to get folks moving.

Well, as you can imagine, this was met with total silence and non-moving from the feet under the stalls. So he kept doing it.

And kept doing it.

At this point I was beginning to get more concerned that this whole affair would end with a shoot-out at the Number 2 Corral, so to speak.

Well, eventually an elderly, and pissed off, gentleman emerged from the stall and old non-english speaking man promptly let a newcomer to the pooper-queue jump the line and get the stall. Which made none of the rest of us entirely pleased.

Eventually two of the stalls got some turnover and I was able to do my business and take off. In the ten-fifteen minutes I was there two of the stalls never turned over. I was tempted to tell the MBTA cops I thought there was a dead dude in one and see what they would do, but that usually means lots of paperwork and frankly who has the time?

So, to the Idiots camped out in the South Station loo: Move your asses! Literally.

Thank you, that will be all.

Kal.


Oh, PS: while looking for an appropriate illustration for this post I stumbled upon this marvelous invention: the portable plastic public bathroom door lock. Greatest... invention... ever....

I am always amazed that a society that can send a man to the moon and return him safely (well, if you believe all that government propaganda put out by the Trilateral Commission in concert with the Zionist Occupational Government and the UN Provisional secret commission to... err... sorry, off topic)

Anywho, between vandalism and shoddy workmanship your average public restroom stall door loses it's door-locking ability about 23 minutes after installation. Even my office can, in a building recently gutted and renovated to the tune of $300 million, has a stall where the door will pop open when someone slams one of the other stall doors. Quite a surprise the first time that happens, let me tell you.

This handy little device allows you to bring your own private little Katy Bar the Door.

Now all I need is a blowtorch and garden sprayer full of rubbing alcohol and I can use any bathroom in Boston!