Aiming Too High
Every time I try to tell someone this story, I can barely get through it because I laugh so much. Let's see how it works as text. Don't read this unless incontinent old men is something you're likely to find funny.
About three weeks ago I paid a visit to the town where I lived from my late teens to early twenties. I wasn't born there, but I think of it more as home than the place I was born.
The town has a small area on the north east edge usually referred to as the village. It's one of the least village like places you can imagine - it's just neglected urban sprawl. It's mostly low income housing, a parade of shops, two pubs, and... the toilets.
Public toilets in the UK are rarely somewhere you would choose to spend time. Back in my youth, these toilets were always known for being particularly grim, and if you could hold it until you got home you would!
Three weeks ago, after a three hour drive, I arrived in that part of town with a very full bladder and no other options for relief. Bracing myself, I heading for the toilets.... which as it turns out, had clearly recently been refitted - as they were very clean, modern, and in very good condition. There were two stalls, with the doors open and obviously clean (this will be important in a minute), and a single urinal. The urinal was the kind fitted to the wall, and was at what I guess is the appropriate height for the average adult man.
Standing in the middle of the toilets was a man who I would guess was in his 70s. He appeared cleanly dressed and there was no outward appearance that he was drunk. There were three notable things about him.
- He was quite short. No more that 5 feet tall.
- He was wearing an extremely large backpack which was obviously weighing him down.
- Despite the obvious availability of the stalls, he was attempting to pee into the urinal, which was probably a good foot above what would have been a convenient height for him.
He obviously had a cursory understanding of physics and/or fluid dynamics, because he was attempting to achieve his goal by standing about three feet away from the urinal and aiming high. It was not going well. In fact, it was going up the wall, down his leg and mostly into a puddle that he was standing in.
Being British I simply made the briefest of eye contact, wished him good morning, and made my way around the outside of the puddle to one of the stalls. While I was in there, I was relieved to hear him wash and dry his hands - after all, hygiene is important.
This is post 30 of 31 for WeblogPoMo2024. My goal is to write and publish 31 posts in 31 days - with no set theme or plan.