So yea, I got buzzed off of one beer earlier today. Haha fucking shit was darn tootin hysterical. Anyhow, for a good 20 minutes or so I was tipsy from one Stone Porter. The beer itself was quite heavy with a nice smooth finish and a hint of spicey sophistication. Nice little egg nog esque after taste to boot. The quaint pub was located in an absolutely beautiful part of Southern California, which put the first smile on this wretched face in many a moon.
We were seated at the empty table in the photo...
After a brew and a half, along with a delicious traditional meat pie, I was off to the shitter.
This is where things begin to go awry. Fawk, nothing is worse than having to see a man about a horse in a place filled with loaded bladders and a mere toilet to please them all.
I went in there with a blitzkrieg offensive, turned the locked knob two times to make sure it was secure, and gazed at the shelves for some two ply to caress my soon to be brown bottom. I then unzip my drawers quicker than Frank can chug 3 beers and I tilt my torso towards the toilet. At this precise moment a burly viking fellow barges through what I believed was a secure passage and stares at my dairy aire.
Intruder: I'm sorry.
Me: Oh don't worry about it.
At this moment I have a handful of paper ass guard in position to line the seat.
Being that I am now caught between a rock and a hard place, I crumble the paper up and begin to dry my hands with it as if I just got done doing my business prior to him walking in. I then proceed back to my table, all the while a turtle head is poking out my backside. It was awkward to say the least.
Would anyone here handle this situation differently? If so, please elaborate.
