I did something awesome today.
While enjoying myself at an establishment that shall remain unnamed, I felt the call of nature tingling in my bladdicular region.
Got up. Went to the restroom. Peed. You know. The usual.
I’m a shoe flusher. I don’t want to touch a handle that a bunch of other disgusting slobs have touched, so I flush with my shoed foot.
Everything was going as planned. I’ve shoe flushed a million times. I’m a veteran shoe flusher. I know what I’m doing.
But, right when I was releasing pressure on the flusher, the handle flew off its mount, hit my shoe, and ricocheted into the toilet bowl where it was promptly flushed down the toilet into oblivion.
The whole thing was over in about a second. I didn’t even have time to reach down into the toilet bowl to grab the handle and save it (which I absolutely would have done otherwise).
I stood there, stunned. Not only am I a shoe flusher, but I’m a very responsible person. My instinct was to wash my hands, exit the restroom, and explain to one of the people on duty that there had been “a slight accident” in the bathroom.
However, when I ran the scenario over in my head, I couldn’t figure out how to break the news. If someone walked up to me and said, “Hey – I’m really sorry, but I’m a shoe flusher, and I accidentally flushed the toilet handle down the toilet,” I probably wouldn’t buy it. I mean, it’s a complicated situation when you think about it. It would be really hard to accidentally flush a toilet handle down the toilet because, presumably, you need the handle to initiate the flush. It seems too unlikely.
Too perfect.
I ran away.