Dear Homeless Man in my Bathroom (*10/6/06*)

Ok, so, I work on, by far, not the best block in Chelsea. We have an oh-so-lovely array of lowlife beings carousing about our block all the time. There's the crazy lady in the wheelchair who spews Bible verses all day. There's the red headed alcoholic who can be found passed out in any number of places on the block. There's also the homeless womens shelter on the corner that can provide hours of entertainment, especially when that one dame's got her guitar out. Watch out, American Idol, here she comes! Oh, and we can't forget the LARGE sweat-outfitted woman who carries a live turtle IN HER PANTS. Poor animal.
But the newest member of our circus menagerie by far takes the cake.
This man must be the genius of all homeless men. And his three teeth are so nicely spaced that they give you that warm fall jack-o-lantern feeling.
But I get ahead of myself here. I work in a small office with four guys and I'm the only female. Most of the time, they're out and I'm here by myself. So, the other day was one of these times when I'm all by my lonesome. I feel that I have to use the bathroom so I go without hesitation because I know I'm by myself in the office. Now, our bathroom is directly outside our front office door and is under lock and key. We have the only keys. Now, imagine my surprise when I walk in, unsuspecting, upon a half-naked, six and a half foot tall black man staring back at me. My instincts screamed "RETREAT!" which is exactly what I did.
Now, I go back into my office and lock the huge police bolt that we have on there. Then I flick on my little door camera that I've got to buzz people in. This camera is positioned in such a way that I can see anyone ringing the bell, but I can also see if and when anyone goes in and out of the bathroom.
So I figure I'll just wait for him to leave.
So I wait.
And wait.
Wait some more.
Various indistinguishable sounds are coming out of the bathroom.
Some flushing.
Some water running.
Wait some more.
Maybe a little nose blowing.
20 minutes of my life lost staring at this camera now and I still have to pee! So I start calling people. I call my boss, tell him whats going on. He's uptown, can't help me, but call the super. I call the super. No answer. I call the building owner and get his receptionist. Explain the situation to her. "Well did you call the super?" Yes i called the super, he's not around. "Well, I guess just wait for him to leave."
Ok, so we're back to waiting and watching the monitor. Literally 45 actual minutes have gone by at this point. And then I hear it. A doorknob. The door cracks open. He puts his face directly into my camera and gives me his three tooth salute. Turns around and walks away. Now, I wait an additional 5 minutes becuase i want to make sure that this man is GONE from my floor. Now, I need to go see what the hell went on in there. I take my keys and my umbrella (for protection) and venture into the bathroom.

NOTHING could have prepared me for what I was to see there.

This man had used our little two-stall, one-sink bathroom as his personal jacuzzi. He literally must have taken a shower in our tiny sink. I suppose he needed to after he took the largest shit I have ever seen, which he chose to leave in the toilet for me. He also was kind enough to put the paper that he used to wipe his disgusting ass with in the GARBAGE can. Why, I ask you??>?!? Why wouldn't you put that paper in the toilet like the rest of the world?!?
Now, this is not all that awaits me in our lovely little bathroom. The floor is entirely flooded with some kind of brown liquid. Now, I know for a fact that my water is clear out of that faucet. This liquid is a complete conundrum to me. There are wet handprints all over my marble walls and stall barriers. And here's the kicker. He took all three rolls of toilet paper that I had courteously stashed beneath the sink and used them to alternately drape decoratively around the stalls as well as stuff into both of my toilets so much so that the paper on top was still dry. That's how much paper he stuffed in there.
So, to recap, in 45 minutes, this man managed to take a shit the size of a porterhouse steak, flood the floor with a mysterious brown liquid, redecorate the whole place with TP and mystery liquid handprints and render both of my toilets completely useless.
So, to the dear homeless man in my bathroom, I'm sure you'll never read this, if you can read at all, but I just wanted to say "Go fuck yourself. And go make your own little swampy wonderland in someone elses bathroom." Oh, yeah, and we changed the locks, so good luck picking that now, motherfucker!


missy&chrissy said...

ok, so i'm sorry you had to deal with the crazy shitter man...but it made for one hilarious story!

and the woman carries a live turtle in her pants? a large turtle? i'm so intrigued. i'm going to be on the lookout for these people next time i'm hanging around chelsea...

soulspeak23 said...

Yes, West 30th between 7th & 8th. Beware of that street. I assure you, if you walk down that block, you WILL see some of the people I described.
I no longer work there, thankfully, but I'm sure they're still there.

Chuckles said...


That tops my story any day. I'll post it and link here.

Anonymous said...

Literally, Hysterical. I was laughing at my desk out loud and my co-workers were looking at me oddly...As terrible as this tale is, the pure fact that it is indeed true is what makes it so damn funny. That and the fact that your editorializing is (in the words of Doozer) Gnarley...

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