The first time I ever came across a trough was at the tender age of 9. While at the drive-in I had to pee like a pregnant woman. So my father takes me to the bathroom. Oh, how I'd live to regret that decision! A device so sinister that even Satan himself passed on its creation. This son of a bitch went from one side of the bathroom to the other. Nothing but a long line of wang that went as far as the eye could see! And what about the poor bastard at the end of the trough? Was he to be hit with a tsunami of urine that had gathered speed as it traveled? Fuck this. I told my father that I didn’t have to go anymore and we left. To this day I cant believe that these things still exist. To me it’d be like walking down the street and seeing someone on one of those bikes that has the 13-foot wheel in the front. Its wrong and silly and shouldn’t exist anymore. Even the dodo knew when to make an exit.
The floors. My, God, the floors!!! Why are these things always wet? I swear that some poor old fool has the job of making sure they stay wet. "Cripes, that floor is almost dry! Johnson, get on it!" "Shonuff, massuh!" I cant tell you how many times I’ve almost slipped on the floor. And then what? Continue dancing with nine different kinds of pee on my pants? Is that what you want?! Well, no! I refuse to frolic whilst drenched in pee. That’s not how I roll.
No soap, mirrors, or air freshener. The mirror thing I can let slide. Clubs and shit are dark. You can have a cave full of bats (that’s boogers, people) and no one would be able to see. I need that dark with this mug. No soap? Fuck. I can even do that. If I rinse in some hot ass water I can feel better about myself. But no air freshener? Come the fuck on!
I don’t know what it is about us guys but our guts takes something delicious like a hamburger and transforms it into something demonic. Now combine that with heat, vomit, and pee all over the floor. That shit ain’t right at all. If you let it sit for a few days I bet some new kind of creature would be spawned from that concoction. Remember what that kids brother turned into in "Weird Science"? Yeah. That.
That dude that sells gum and sprays you with cologne. That evil, Black bastard. That’s right, I said it. He’s always Black. Some old Black dude that was born before the slaves were freed. I’m not saying he is mean or anything. He’s actually quite sweet. But that’s the thing. He sells you a stick of gum and expects a tip. What do you tip for that? 3 cents? Maybe 4? Then you run the risk or looking like a cheapskate if you don’t give him anything. And me being me I don’t want him going back to the plantation and talking shit about me.
"Ya'll's shoulda seen dis fo' eyes fool tryin' tah not tip me! I's woulda smacked him upside da head an' shown him whatfo' but I 'membered that I had uh busy day of cotton pickin' to do latuh today, I tell's you what."
This is the shit that goes through my head as I pay a buck for a pack of gum. Fuck.
Legislation needs to be passed, people. This shit has gone on for far too long. By the time I leave the bathroom I am hot, smelly, wet, mad, and broke. Is this the price we must pay? Is this us paying for the sins of our fathers? Are they angry because when they were young indoor plumbing was to them as flying cars are to us? Either way I refuse to do it anymore. From now on when you hear me say, "I gotta piss" I will just do it right on the dance floor. Seriously. So the next time we're out dancing and you see people slipping and sliding all around me you’ll know why.
It was because I was mad as Hell and I wasn’t taking it anymore!
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