Straight Flush

You know who are totally best friends? The fat bastards who eat lamb curry on the T, use the elevator to travel one floor, and the asswads that chatter on their cellphones in the fucking bathroom stall. Not just in the bathroom, mind you, everyone has had to do that from time to time. And not just sequestered in one far stall while occupants do their business far far far down the other end of the row. I'm talking about the freakish specimens that find it perfectly acceptable to sit in the stall next to you in the tiniest bathroom in the building, and carry on to whatever poor slob has deigned to associate with them. Fucking unreal.

I mean, in what universe does this constitute a proper way to behave? Never mind that you are totally obnoxious to your own conversant, Toilet Talker, you are making me SERIOUSLY UNCOMFORTABLE. I don't like public bathrooms generally, due to the gross lack of privacy. Now you are totally knocking down all fathomable boundaries by broadcasting the sound of my urination to a THIRD FUCKING PARTY? I don't want them to hear it, they probably have no interest in listening, and what the fuck is so important that you can't call them back? Seriously, hang up the phone. My bladder is about to pop, and this performance anxiety is the last straw, lady.

Alas, there is hope in this situation. Whereas you're mostly limited to disgusted glares and angry looks in the 'stop spilling garlic mayo on my lap...really, garlic? On the subway?' and the 'you just waited 2 minutes for an elevator to go up to the next floor when the stairs are right there???' situations, in the phone invasion scenario, you can actually give it right back to them. Oh yes. I figured this one out all by myself. Why should just I suffer? When I can very easily fuck your shit up with a...flush. And another. And another. And another. Really. This happened like, 15 minutes ago, I tried it...and just flushed that trollop right out of the bathroom. She was on the phone in the hallway when I left, and tried to shoot me a death glare...but I declined the negativity. Sure, for a moment I did wonder if my retaliatory flushing was a bigger dick move than their invasion of my privacy, but ultimately declared myself the moral victor. I mean, I would never have flushed the toilet 8 times in a row if they hadn't first made it impossible for me to pee in peace. And why couldn't she have just taken her phone call in the hallway to begin with?

I am a little worried about how triumphant I feel, though. Next thing you know I'll be sneezing all over your meatball sub on the Green Line. Just kidding. Really though - meatballs? Marinara sauce? This train is bumpy as hell. You're just going to dribble all over the seat, then? No napkin or anything. Huh. Oh, hang on...ah...ah.ahhhhhchoooo.

My bad.