I was at a funeral yesterday. It was not a depressing one… she was 99 years old. She was an old friend of the family, and led a crazy cool life. I had to stop and use the facilities in the church where the service was held. As I approached the urinal, I was somewhat appalled to notice that it was mounted to the wall at an unusually low height… I mean, like, the bottom was about three inches off the floor. I have used urinals at schools when my daughters were young, and even at a preschool, the urinals aren’t put that close to the floor.
See, the thing is… well, you knew there was going to be a thing in this story, right?… I am 6 feet 4 inches tall. That means that the top of the urinal was below my… uh… groin area. I don’t mean the top of the urinal like the part you aim for, I mean the very top of it. This meant that, as I approached, it became obvious that I would have to stand back a little bit and then really focus on my… uh… aim… because the trajectory required to utilize this urinal for a person of my height put it at the higher end of the difficulty scale.
So there I was, walking up to the infernal contraption, trying to judge exactly how far away from it to stop, and at the same time, I was… uh… unzipping myself and… um… you know… pulling out the required equipment for using a urinal… and of course, I chose this moment to blurt out the first thing that entered my mind upon seeing a urinal mounted so close to the ground:
“Why is this thing so short”?
Yup… that is what I said… out loud… as I was in the process of removing some of myself from my own trousers.
Now, you must admit, this is an unfortunate choice of words for this particular situation.
I looked around and saw the guy who was standing in front of the mirror adjusting his tie, and the guy who was waiting behind him to wash his hands, and the guy who was waiting for me to finish using the urinal of doom… and they were all looking at me with mouths and eyes open just a bit wider than would seem to be usual, as they collectively tried to process my unsolicited confession.
At that point, I suppose, I could have tried to explain that I was talking about the urinal and not myself. But no. That ain’t me. I never try to retreat with the shreds of my dignity clutched about me like a tattered cloak. Oh no… in for a penny, in for a pound, I always say. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead… always double down on your bet.
So I flashed the gentlemen a friendly smile and turned back to the task at hand. And as I carefully attempted to not splash myself or the walls and floor of that tiny little restroom, I broke into a rousing chorus of:
‘He’s got the whole world in his hands’.
Pouring My Art Out 
What is it with washrooms and having the utilities too close to the ground. You should have checked out the stall I bet the toilet was so low that you would pop your knee out while sitting and then have to get someone to help you stand back up. Trust me, this is a thing.
the plumbers represent the lollipop guild
I find the extra distance uh, practical.
sigh
Really funny story. I am a little bit sorry for you but it was really funny 🙂
Thanks.
Hilarious Art. I’m sure with the deceased being 99 and all, any of her contemporaries that attended would likely be, shall we say, possibly confiued as well. You may just have fit right in.
…should read “confused”, like me.
I implied as much.
It is a rare instance where I fight right in anywhere.
You are a very amusing man! Thank you. 🙂
no… thank you
I can always count on you to make me laugh! Thanks for curing my sadness for a little while at least. 🙂
That means a lot to me.
I belly-laughed through your entire post. Thanks — I needed that!
yay
Funniest thing I’ve seen in days and days and days. I have so many comments, none of which are appropriate for, well, anything. I could totally picture myself doing this drunk, but sober? I dunno. Makes it funnier. I once talked to a tree for twenty minutes before throwing up on it. The rest of my crew sat back and laughed, the jackasses.
I think we need a comic strip version of this story, seriously.
I was beginning to think that my little story, which certainly shows the strange workings of my mind, was going to go unappreciated. Thanks.
I want the cartoon version! I bet people would be properly up for that.
It may have to wait for a while
A comic strip version would work wonderfully.
Right? Egg him on! Or just egg him, whatever.
hey now
Do we really need to see that?
I think maybe.
oh
I remember standing in a Mexican restaurant restroom once where that had piped in Muzak. The Mexican Hat Dance was playing at the time. I remember noticing I was absentmindedly “hosing” back and forth to the rhythm of the music. Fascinating word “rhythm.” The only vowel is the “and sometimes Y.” Did you also catch the “Fascinatin’ Rhythm” allusion. Didyah, didyah, huh didyah?
That is a lot to take in…
You’re exceptional though. You’re up to the task. You may have to explain it to Trent. Do you have any of those felt board figures to help with that?
I have that little doll I use to have him show me where the bad man touched him…
Didn’t work did it. You see, you confused him. I can hear it all now. “NO. NO. He was a nice man. He had candy and a van and a camera and….”
He is a babe in the woods.
I know. I just got done having to explain some Bible passages to him and I didn’t have my felt board and figures. Tremendous fail.
I had the birds and the bees talk with him… it didn’t work out well…
I think it’s a good thing they keep him so busy at his work. He has less time to ponder the limitations of a “less challenging” existence.
The less time he has for thinking, the better.
For all of us.
yup