Awkwardness, thy name is office bathroom

Let's face it. There are few places where one is more vulnerable than when you're sitting on the toilet.

One of the many reasons I'm glad to be a male (besides not giving birth, having a penis, not being stupid, in approximately that order) is because they have to sit down twice as much as we do.

Sitting on a porcelain bowl, legs akimbo, pants down, dropping concentrated evil down the drain, it's just not a good position to be in.

It's one thing when you're at home, deucing in your own toilet. Then you can take your time, have your shit blasts go as loud as you want, and not have to worry about anyone else smelling the glorious stench.

But what about at the office? Because face it, for 40-odd hours a week, you're in the same place with the same people, and unless you're a freak, you're probably going to have to drop a mid-day deuce at some point or the other?

So how do you deal with that? It's pretty hard to respect people who are your superiors, or that peruse your work, when you meet them as they're coming out of the bathroom, then you go in and get slapped in the face with stank.

Because, let's face it. Every time you see them, you're going to be thinking, "well, the boss clearly needs to eat more fiber." And that's not conducive to a good work environment.

I once ruled out a pretty good job because the bathroom had incredibly thin walls, and was surrounded by hotties working at their desks. No way I would have been able to carpet bomb that turrlet when there is a legitimate "10" sitting less than five feet away, with only a thin sheet of drywall protecting my dignity.

I have been at my current job for almost eight months. I have had so many awkward bathroom experiences there, it's not even funny.

For example, everytime I head to the head around mid-day, the bathroom is right by this woman's office. I'm sure she notices when I pass by, and I'm sure she can hear my opening the bathroom door.

Then, when I'm in there for a good 15 minutes (thank you cell phone Yahtzee), then walk past her office, she knows what abominations went down in there.

And here's when it gets really awkward:

Imagine you walk into the bathroom to pee, and you catch the remnants of someone else's stink ray. Unpleasant, but no big deal.

Unless...

What if you're at the sink, washing your hands, and someone else walks in? Well, they automatically give you the stink-eye (pardon the pun), thinking that they're smelling your odor.

And there's nothing worse than that. You didn't even shit, but what are you going to say?

On the plus side, if you're standing at the urinal, you couldn't have been the culprit. Who poops, then pees at the urinal? No one.

I always like to give the person a knowing look when I'm at the urinal. A look that says, "Can you believe this animal?"

Here's a funny story.

When I go to the crapper, there are two sinks along the wall then two urinals (waterless urinals, which I will get into later), then a regular stall, then a large, handicapped stall.

I always use the handicapped stall. Call me crazy, but I don't want to be jettisoning my cargo that close to someone washing his hands, or God forbid, peeing right next to me.

So I always go to the handicap stall.

And this particular incident finds me struggling to make it to the bathroom before blast-off. I get in there, and it is gloriously empty.

So I make my way to the handicapped stall, unbuckle my belt, and prepare to re-enact Hiroshima on August 6, 1945.

Then, the unthinkable happens.

Someone comes into the bathroom, and sits in the stall right next to mine.

Now, I know my body. And I know that this is going to be an explosion. And call me crazy, but I don't like other people hearing the sounds I make.

Splashing, farting, sometimes sobs of pain and/or pleasure. No thanks.

And I'm pretty sure the guy next to me felt the same way.

So we sat there, at a stalemate, both of us just waiting to drop our rolls of quarters into the oatmeal.

Me? Even though I'm struggling to keep a cork in it, I've got Yahtzee to play. I don't know what this gentleman had.

So we sit there. And we sit there, no noise coming out of either of us.

And finally, I hear him shift. And then the sounds. And then the toilet paper being rolled out. Then the flush. Then he gets up washes his hands (and sheds a tear as his dignity goes down the drain along with the soapy water, or at least I like to think so) and he slinks off in defeat.

Let me tell you something. Sweet release has never felt so good.

This day my friends, I was a winner.

I probably won't cure a major disease. I'd be lucky to even safe a life. I don't know the joy of creating life. But that day, my friends, that day, I was more alive than I had ever been.

Of course, when I got back to my office over an hour later, I missed an appointment and had to scramble to make up my workload.

But you know what? It's the price of victory.