Caught with my Pants Down
As a gift from my bride’s aunt and uncle, they wanted to take us to a Mongolian restaurant that was given great reviews. We arrived a little earlier in the evening so the restaurant was a little crowded. The aroma was magnificent; I have never had a Mongolian cuisine before. I was anxious to give it a try.
Buffets with a variety of hot and cold food items were on one side, while the seating area was on other. Towards the back, a large grill behind a protective glass allows you to watch a “specialty chef” cook from a large variety of raw meats and vegetables that you get to choose from.
This is where I hung out.
Now I’m known for having an “iron stomach”, but I was still warned by my wife’s uncle to take it easy – especially on the barbeque.
“Yeah, okay… (Whatever).”
Let me say that spending most of my teenage years in East Hammond, Indiana – I’ve tasted A LOT of barbeque; a lot of the best barbeque “the Region” has to offer, but this Mongolian barbeque – this is something like I’ve never tasted before.
I tried everything, or at least I felt like I did.
Okay, that’s the end of the setup, here’s the juice…
Like I said, I felt like I ate everything they had to offe; I feel like maybe that specialty chef and I should maybe exchange cards this coming Christmas. I had to of run up to that guy at least ten times – at least.
Dinner took about thirty or forty minutes, I was done in about twenty. So I sat and conversed with my new lovely wife and her relatives. They were welcoming me to the family; saying things like “call them if we need anything…” all that kind of stuff.
As the conversation went on, my stomach did a little “pop”.
“Uh-oh,” I thought to myself, “I know what that means.”
I excused myself from the table, kissed my wife on the cheek and whispered in her ear that I’d be right back. We looked at each other – she knew where I was going and what I had to do.
That’s the cool thing about having a soul mate; you can look at one another and know exactly what’s going on.
I enter the bathroom and it’s a two urinal and a two toilet men’s room. When you first walk in, you make a quick right and a large two sink counter with a large mirror is straight back – the stalls and urinals are across from each other. Anyway, I’m not there to use the urinals (you probably got that), so I go in the stall… -FAST-FWD-
…I go to reach for the toilet paper and the roll falls out and rolls away under the stall. It rolls in a way that it rolls up under the large two sink counter, right in the corner – I mean perfect.
NOTE: Now I had to use this stall because the other stall (the handicap stall) had no toilet paper of its own.
Now I’m bending, and bending – trying to see under the stall walls while at the same time, trying to remain seated; not an easy task. I spotted the toilet paper and after a little time and thought – I decided to go for it.
I stood up from the toilet, holding up my pants, doing the best I can with trying to cover my penis. I couldn’t pull my pants ALL the way up in fear that I’ll get shit on them. I looked around over the stall door to make sure I was alone, and then I slowly unfastened the stall door.
I took about three or four more seconds before I busted through those stall doors like the cops during a raid. It was quite awkward to run with my pants halfway down and an ass crack full of shit. It was about twenty mini steps to the sink before I had to drop down to grab the toilet paper. The sink was pretty big, so when I bent down to grab the toilet paper, I practically had to crawl a little bit underneath the sink just to grab at it. At the same time as I bent and went for the toilet paper, I heard the men’s room door open. I tried to stand up, I didn’t care about my shitty ass, but it figures, I smack my head on the sink on the way up, laying me out on the floor.
It was for only about a half second or two, but long enough to where a father and his 5 year old son saw me laying down with my pants down and an ass crack full of shit.
I tried to get up as fast as I could but the father had already scooped up his son and bolted out of there.
Realizing that they had gone, I grabbed for the toilet paper again; this time grabbing it and hopping back to stall and finishing my business, but now I had to exit the men’s room. I washed my hands slowly – staring at myself in the mirror.
“What if that guy is right there, waiting for me?” “How am I going to explain this?”
I got the nerve and walked out; I saw my wife and her relatives in the distance. They were looking at me, they had a look of concern and relief on their faces, but then I saw the father. I would have walked right past him but I caught him staring at me through the corner of my eye – he looked pissed.
“Do I say something?” “There’s no telling what that guy must of thought seeing me like that?”
Oh well, hell with it.
I walked back to my table and sat down. My wife asked if I wanted any desert but I refused. I just wanted to leave. My back was to the guy who saw me and I felt like he was burning a hole in the back of my head with his stares, but every time I nonchalantly looked over in his direction he looked as if he forgotten all about it… probably not.