Living in Vegas is a hard thing to do. So much action and strangeness to be had at any moment leaves the head reeling and ready for an attack of the senses. Finding good places to hang out and healthy places to eat can be even harder; especially if you are a "local" and want to avoid the swarms and traffic on the strip.
I got lucky when a condo right on the edge of the good part of town came available and was in my price range. Allowing me to avoid paying the terrible taxes but still able to roll in the heavenly trough of the rich.
My healthy dining choice was Sweet Tomatoes, an all-you-can-eat salad bar. It was so fantastic that patronizing there several times a month was not a problem. When I had guests come in to town visiting often I would take them there. Damn man!, it was like a four star restaurant to me.
Anyway, this story starts when my friend from japan moved back to the states and stayed with me on her way to live in Arizona.
It was another sunny day in fabulous Las Vegas and we went out to my favorite joint for dinner. We'd been eating and enjoying ourselves for an hour or so when the urge to hit the boy's room came upon me. I excused myself and meandered through the place to the back where restrooms are normally hidden.
Pushing open the door I immediately encountered a middle-aged man dressed casually standing by the sink almost blocking the entrance. The bathroom was rather small and I practically had to squeeze past him excusing myself as tried not to make eye contact on my way to the urinal (per the male custom). Man, this bathroom was tightly packed! The sink was close enough for me to kick my leg backwards and touch it and the middle-aged guy just standing there. The toilet stall was in arm's reach. Claustrophobia anyone?
This guy was patiently standing not two and a half feet behind me. Standing. Silent.
After I got my feet positioned, in the proper peeing stance, perfectly distanced from the porcelain to avoid splashing I started to unzip my pants when I heard the middle-aged guy's voice.
"You need any help?"
I froze.
My eyes were looking straight-forward at the wall in the traditional manly position. My one hand holding the side of my jean opening and the other forming a claw clinched on the zipper itself.
My mind began racing through aisles and aisles of responses: no thank you, shut the fuck up, i will kill you, it's not that heavy, etc.
My mouth started to open to utter a response that I wasn't even sure both halves of my brain agreed upon, and for a second the thought of just whipping around and doing some kung-fu kicking shit might solve the problem I was facing as well...when...
A tiny, little voice came from the toilet
"No dad, I got it."
I shut my eyes in relief.
I didn't see anyone in the stall when I came in because the boy was so short his legs didn't touch the floor.
His dad had been standing there waiting for him.
I was an intruder in their small moment.
I was able to actually pee and get the hell out of there, despite the performance anxiety. I wanted to wash my hands but I couldn't look at the guy in the face after thinking all of those bad thoughts so I just walked out.
Thank goodness my friends were already standing by the door and ready to leave.
I walked out of that place a freer man than when I had walked in.
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