Much Too Public Restroom

Recently I admitted to tons of people that I set my pants on fire and danced in my drawers in front of a bunch of old men.

I am still wondering why I told you that. While not funny at the time, it sure gets a lot of chuckles now. At 14, I thought I would never be more embarrassed in my life, at 20 I found out I was wrong.

I arrived at a party in Jacksonville, Fla., having already made financial contributions to at least three different beer companies and at least two Kentucky distilleries. I probably thought myself suave and debonair, more than likely I had a stupid grin on my face. I mean, really, stupid people should not drink.

I mingled, but my real mission was to have a beer in both hands at the same time, as soon as possible. Quickly, I accomplished my immediate goal in life. I am going back right now and underline, stupid people should not drink.

Soon, as it always happens, I knew I would need to find the restroom. I found it on the back wall of the room where the party was happening. It stood there, wide open as a redneck's wallet in Walmart at Christmas time. By that I mean one of the 50 people in the room had ripped the door off its hinges. It stood leaning against the wall nearby. My befuddled mind, my two drinks and my over full bladder, as a group, struggled to come up with a sane solution.

The house was old, so the door was thick and made from solid wood. It appeared to be heavy. I watched for a while as a few other men went inside, pulled the door over the opening, carefully leaning it at the right angle, and then came back out with no problems. Still, I hesitated, dancing near the wall alone with two drinks in my hands. My bladder doubted my intelligence. My drinks were getting hot, and my mind was calling me names I did not deserve. In fact, I still hold a grudge about it to this day. Who does he think he is anyway?

Finally, a few girls took their turns. If they could do it, surely I could, too. Stumbling along, I tried to play down the fact of where I was headed. Sitting my drinks down I positioned the door against the opening, prepared myself, picked up my two drinks and decided to leave aiming to chance. I turned up one of my drinks. It occurred to me that you truly only rent beer. It also occurred to me that I certainly did not appreciate the part of the beer industry I represented.

About the time, I was fully engrossed in the natural function I had put off for far too long. Suddenly there was a tremendous explosion. Well, I wish it had been an explosion. This would have been an opportune time for any number of natural or unnatural disasters to have happened. What it turned out to be was that colossal, heavy door falling flat out onto the real wood floor of the old house. Which was right out in the middle of the party. It sounded like a cannon had went off. Out of fear someone knocked the needle off of whatever was playing on the record player. Yes, I said record player, with a ziiiiiiip the party fell utterly silent.

As if those two things weren’t enough to happen at the same time, two other things also happened. For my part, I jerked around to see what was after me before it got me. So there I stood with a beer in one hand and another in guzzle mode. Already started, my natural function was going to run its course, beer going in one end, puddle on the floor coming out the other. I stared into the faces of 50 people. The door falling in such a dramatic fashion had ensured there were 50 faces staring back at me.

OK, God, message sent, message received. I did not withdraw my financial support from the beer companies that night, but it wasn’t long after that. Again, stupid people should not drink; I was just barely smart enough to stop when I did.