Eight-hour shifts, even for my in-door pool-sized bladder, are too long to go without using the washroom. The employee facilities at my Top American Hotel Destination job, no lie, give me the shimmy shakes & I therefore use them as little as inhumanly possibly. Where I do frequent, however, are the lavish & fragrant public washrooms for our guests, but only under the stealthiest of radars. If caught, Upper Management would forever damn me to the horrors that are the Employee Lavatories.
And this, my friends, would be a fate worse than death. Why? It isn't the cheap air freshener mixed with eau de bare-feet-on-linoleum. It isn't the forgotten receipt tape mingling with the moist hand-towel tumbleweeds in the corner. It isn't even the lone locker that smells like Otto's jacket. No, friends, what really shimmies my shakes about our male lavatories is the small colony (no, not a colony, more of a suburb) of fruit flies who live in & around the urinals.
Yes, I have a weak nose when it comes to pungent smells & it doesn't take much for me to whiff-and-gag, but these fruit flies do something much more detrimental to my being than up-chucking: they cause me to become, can you believe it, neurotic. Yes, me.
Neurotic Worry #1) This isn't a Family Drug & Feed or a Denny's, this is a Top American Hotel Destination. What the fruit are fuck flies doing buzzin' around my place of employment? Yea, there is food everywhere, but it's the middle of one of the coldest & most snowy winters in recent Chicago history. Shouldn't they be, well, dead & not sneakin' peaks while I'm going #1. Speaking of #2...
Neurotic Worry #2) I swear on my urinal cake: the fruit flies seemingly only appear after I take my stance & unzip my fly, thus instilling the fear that either A) I smell down yonder, or B) they actually live in my pants. Can you imagine that? A colony (no, not a colony, more of a subdivision) of flies living IN your pants, waiting for the moment when the urinator unzips his or her fly.
Needless to say, our male Employee Lavatories need to get cleaned up. Otherwise, I'm gonna pull a Linder from A Raisin in the Sun on their teeny tiny asses by not takin' kindly to teeney tiny new neighbors. More neurotic tendencies notwithstanding, I'll either master the Pee Dance or take my chances with the public facilities & dodge the higher-ups as long as I can.
Either way, these flies better hit the bars or the gym or the farmer's market (where ever fruit flies congregate) & leave my business, & my junk, alone.