A Post By: Michael Gallo
It happened twice in one week. While I was sitting on the toilet, minding my own business and browsing Reddit, the lights went out.
The bathroom in my office building doesn’t have windows (which, thinking back on it, must be some sort of fire hazard), which means when the lights go out the bathroom is plunged into complete and total blackness. The type of black that is so black it hurts your eyes.
This is when some bizarre primal instinct takes over. A primal instinct left over from when humans had hair on the foreheads and didn’t hunt for sport. Two thoughts crossed my mind:
1) Someone turned off the lights in a coordinated, and well-planned attack
2) I just shat my way through some apocalyptic disaster and humanity is without electricity
Both of these thoughts occurred to me as I sat on a toilet with my pants at my ankles. It was go time. If the attack scenario was unfolding then that meant a trained killer was in the bathroom with me, with night vision glasses. It would be too obvious to shoot me. He was either going to strangle me out with a rope, or break my neck (I’ve thought about this before. And remember: primal instinct). I used my phone to find the toilet paper and quietly cleaned up shop. I couldn’t give my position away even though this particular bathroom only has one stall and one urinal. Once fresh, I slowly pulled up my pants and put away my phone (right pocket, none of this left pocket bullshit. Seriously, why go left pocket? The majority of people are right handed, but I’ve seen a lot of left pocket people. They’re all idiots). At this point I was breathing pretty heavy. In the next ten minutes I was either going to be dead, or have a hired killer’s blood on my hands. I took a deep breath, silently unlocked the stall door and kicked the door open. I came out of the stall like a tornado of death, arms swinging and random kicks aimed at crotch level. I didn’t kick anything, but I did run square into the far bathroom wall nose-first. Taking a wall to the face was actually a positive, because now I had an idea of where I was at. Or something like that. I took a sharp left and kept air punching. As I was thinking “shouldn’t I be coming up on the other wall?” I walked square into the other wall, nose-first. As I put my hands down catch my balance, I felt a piece of metal. The killer’s gun! I was wrong about the choke-attack! I pulled it as hard as I could and the bathroom door opened. The lights came back on. I was hit with sudden clarity. First, that I hadn’t buttoned my pants or buckled my belt. Second, that I had been motionless on the toilet for so long that a motion detector assumed no one was in the bathroom, and shut the lights off. Third, there was blood coming from my nose.
The second time this happened, I followed the same protocol, attempting to find the bathroom door when it opened by itself. This was it, the killer had returned for a second try. But instead it turned out to be a guy from accounting who was probably wondering why I had been standing in a pitch black bathroom with my arms outstretched. I smiled, left without washing my hands, and went to my car to cry. From here on out, when using the bathroom for extended periods of time, I plan on periodically throwing balls of toilet paper over the stall wall to trigger the motion detector. You can’t fool Michael Gallo. More than three times.