The High School Party Bathroom Story

Posted by tobymuresianu on Feb 19, 2014 in Stories |

A few kind people on facebook said they liked my cab stories and wanted more. I don’t have any more, but as the next best thing here’s an embarrassing story from high school, which remedies the situation of my previous ones making me seem like the good guy.

The first real high school party I went to was at my friend Rob’s house (not his real name, I’m still not sure if he knows what happened or not).

I got there early and was talking with friends when I realized I had to – and there’s no polite way to say this, but we’re all adults with bodies and have been there – take a big dump. But I was afraid of stinking up the joint or having classmates queued up down the hall, so I didn’t use the main bathroom. I knew, cleverly, that Rob’s parents had a bathroom in their master bedroom and went for that one.

I did my business, but when I went to flush, it didn’t. It went halfway down the pipe, then stopped and the water rose.

I looked for a plunger, but there wasn’t one. I knew there was one downstairs, but I did not at all want to have to walk past my new high school classmates with it in hand, an undeniable scepter of shame. I weighed my options.

Sometimes when a toilet clogs, you know you earned it. But sometimes you just haven’t pulled the lever confidently enough to establish dominance. Hoping that was the case, I pressed the button again with authority.

At this point in my life I didn’t realize a toilet *could* overflow; I assumed there was some kind of fail-safe mechanism. As the water began to rise towards the lip and reality hit home, everything went into slow motion.

My eyes lit onto a tupperware container used for storing makeup. I dumped it onto the ground and started frantically baling water from the toilet to the sink. Too little, too late; the water rose over the lip and spilled onto the floor like a public fountain built to commemorate my failure.

This is also probably the time to note Rob’s parents bathroom is the only one in the western hemisphere with shag carpeting. Possibly the only one in history outside Liberace’s mansion or Gaddaffi’s Libya.

Fortunately, the water was all “fresh” water from the pipes (“fresh” being a very relative term). Either way, by the time it stopped the carpeting was soaked. I found a 36-pack of toilet paper in the closet and used half of it, hand soap and a hair dryer to sponge-dry the carpet over the next 60-90 minutes.

After finishing the toilet was still clogged, because there is no justice in the world. I gritted my teeth and tried to sneak downstairs. My friends immediately saw me and asked me where I disappeared to. Dodging the question, I hurriedly got the plunger and hustled upstairs to a chorus of jeers from the now-packed party.

What I did next was not mention it to anyone for 16 years.

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