There he sat, propped up at the bar, draped in an over sized t-shirt that clung to his fat and sweaty body like a wrapper on a twinkie. He took a swig of his Budweiser as he listened to his friend rant on and on about how America was going to be great again.  He sat there as if he had done nothing wrong, and this “nothing” was not going to go unnoticed.

As I am storming my way over to him I’m not even thinking about what my approach will be. My thoughts were solely focused on questioning who could have raised such an animal? I mean seriously.

He sees me out of his peripheral and  I notice that he continues to watch (not watch) me as I walk over to him.

“Excuse me?” I say loudly so my voice would carry over the loud rap music that belted from the jukebox. He takes another sip of his beer and he looks over to me. His stare already told me that he knew what was coming.

“Do you mind fixing what you just did in there?” I point towards the direction we both just came from. I stare at him in his greasy little pig face. Was this shame that flickering in his eyes?

“I know. I’m sorry. I regretted it the moment I walked out and saw you standing there waiting.” He begins to wiggle his way off the bar stool, slightly wobbling in the process. His friend stares at us in confusion.

“Don’t worry, this wont take long.” I say to his suspecting friend as I stand off to the side so that Twinkie could make his way off the stool and back towards the restroom.  The urgency within me was beginning to build up. I was two beers, three gin and tonics, and one shot in, and it was all now wanting to come out. I would have already been peeing if this idiot wouldn’t have been such a goddamn pig.

So what led us all here to this very moment?? A restroom break gone wrong, that’s what.

The Mermaid. It was a dingy, hole in the wall bar that was dimly lit with crazy blue lights, and purple tones that radiated off the jukebox. It always smelled like old beer and cigarettes, and the smoke lingered over our heads like ghost chandeliers, but I didn’t mind. This was the place all the islanders, such as myself, came to to get away from all the annoying tourists that flooded the island this time of year. While vacationers went to the overpriced bars with fruity frozen drinks and crappy live music, we residents came here, our fun and sinful safe haven. I had been standing in line waiting for the ladies room as I watched as guy after guy walked out of the men’s room. The ladies room was taking a little longer, which wasn’t so unusual but I was beginning to think that maybe there wasn’t even anyone in the ladies room, when all the sudden the door swings open and out walks the occupant.  Surprised to see this over sized man stumbling out, I giggled as I thought to myself, “Someone just couldn’t wait..” It wasn’t until I made my way into the bathroom and locked the door that I was met with an infuriating sight. Not only did this goon use the women’s restroom but he decided to use it and left it as though there would be a maid following up behind him to clean up his mess. The toilet had not been flushed, foamy yellow pee was still swirling around in there. Not only that, but it seemed as though our friend here had, for the most part, missed, leaving the entire toilet seat splattered with urine. It wasn’t just a couple droplets either. No, that I could deal with. It was as though he didn’t even try to aim properly, leaving more puddles on the seat than there were dry spots.

“Fuck this shit…” said the alcohol in me and out I went looking for this animal.

In my normal, sober life, I would have probably let the issue go and not went looking for the culprit. I probably would have flushed the piss down, layered the seat with a million sheets of t.p, and just hovered over the bowl (as women do) and done my duty. Tonight though, I was stoned, drunk, and in no mood to clean up any messes that were not my own.  So here I am walking behind this man-child whom I wholeheartedly want to kick straight in the middle of his back, but I can’t.

He walks straight into the women’s bathroom and heads straight to where the single toilet sits. “Oh geeze,” he mumbles as he rubs one hand down his face and it’s at this point that I wonder if he had even washed his nasty little hands before leaving the bathroom. “I’m sorry.” spills from his lips as he grabs a handful of toilet paper. I was in shock honestly. He looked like he actually felt bad but I still eye him skeptically.

Twinkie first cleans off the seat with one swooping motion and tosses the wad of dirty toilet paper into the bowl and  flushes. He then grabs another wad of paper, this time slightly wetting it first with water and goes over the seat once more, tossing that bunch into the garbage. He then washes his hands and once he’s finished he turns to look at me and again mumbles out an “I’m sorry.”

“It’s Ok. Thank you for cleaning it up.” I say almost dumbfounded. I truly wasn’t expecting him to have been not only so thorough in his cleaning but so apologetic as well. He then walks past me grabbing a bit of paper towel to dry his hands off, and walks out. I shut the door and lock it, my bladder suddenly screaming as I’m doing so. I barely have time to unbutton, unzip, and squat down when all the liquids sprayed out of me like a fireman’s hose. As I squatted there, I remember feeling pretty proud of myself. It had been out of character for me to have gone out searching for the culprit and then making him right his wrong. It had been a pretty ballsy move considering I had no back up plan if he would have ignored my request for him to clean up his mess.

I finished my business, washed my hands, and walked out of there feeling like a new woman and when I walked back to where my friends sat, they asked me what had taken me so long. As I began to quickly fill them in on my bathroom adventure, the bartender walks over to where I sit and plops a shot down in front of me. Before I can ask her about this randomly bought shot she motions over to where Twinkie sat and blurted out, “It’s on him.” and walks off. I hold up the shot in salute as does he, and in one smooth swoop we both down the shot.

Anytime I go to the Mermaid now, I always think of Twinkie. I wonder if someday I’ll run into him again and if so, will he remember me and the fleeting moment of potty solidarity we shared. Although he may have started off on the wrong foot, he quickly made it up with genuine gestures, apologetic and concerned. He taught me that we don’t always have to just eat shit and if we do go out sticking up for ourselves and what is right, you won’t always run into a confrontation.

And here I thought that I hated Twinkies.

 Photo Credit: Natal Galvan