Yesterday I wrote a piece called “I’m A Douche At Starbucks“. I penned it to mock two things: 1) My first time sitting at Starbucks in front of a laptop acting like a stereotypical Starbucks laptop douche, and 2) people who, on a regular basis, do what I did yesterday, and who go above and beyond normal douchery by incorporating Bluetooths (Blueteeth?) and other increasingly pretentious icons of self-importance. I’m certainly on the path to number two.
And speaking of number two…. (best segue ever…) while I was typing that blog post, something else was going on in the background at Starbucks.
I noticed a group of people enter the Starbucks. I surveyed them, made a mental note and went back to the writing. I don’t know if it’s insensitive to say that they looked like mentally disabled folks, but I think that sometimes mentally disabled folks have “a look” about them. Is that wrong to say? I don’t mean it as an insult for sure. Those afflicted with Down Syndrome, for example, have “a look.” No biggie. It’s actually kinda helpful because it reminds me that I might need to be a bit more patient.
I went about my business. One of the group’s members sat at a chair about ten feet in front of me. He was there for a minute or two, then got up and moved somewhere else about the store. Didn’t think much of him, just went about my business. A few minutes later, I noticed a bustle of activity. Nothing loud, just a series of slight movements of people together and some concerned whispers. This was a cue to my brain that I should raise my eyes and survey the scene. My orbs made contact with a variety of surfaces until I arrived at the, uh, jackpot.
One of the unfortunate members of this group shat his pants. A big, heavy, wet, soggy diarrhoea. Thick and damp, like soupy coffee grounds or a creamy hot chocolate, the diarrhoea pooled on the seat, some dripping off of the back end of the chair, onto the bottom rail, and then onto the floor like syrupy peanut butter.
The group’s handler, whispered with another fella, and with his cooperation and the help of the Starbucks staff, the handler was able to procure latex gloves, a big bag, some rags and cleaning spray. I was rather disappointed with the handler’s cleaning efforts though: A few sprays of cleaner on the rag, a few scoops off of the chair and ta-da, she called it a day. The Starbucks employee asked one of the handicapped guys to take the chair onto the patio so she could hose the shit off the chair properly.
This isn’t so much a humorous or satirical piece as it is more of a WTF Just Happened Here piece. I feel badly for the poor guy who shat his pants, but I also feel badly for me, an innocent guy who had to see liquid human brew dripping off of a chair at Starbucks. Guughh! I gotta say though, the ventilation system at this Starbucks was top-notch — not even a molecule of the stink reached to where I was sitting. The woman next to me had no idea what was going on, and I’m pretty sure that other patrons were spared the knowledge as well. Although after the fiasco my imagination got the best of me and any bagels being toasted smelled like shit for a few seconds until my brain figured it out.
The motto of the Internet is, “Pics or it didn’t happen!” Here are my pics, to show that it happened.
[c] 2009 Russ of America
For stylistic purposes I have chosen to use the old-timey spelling of diarrhea in the text of this post.
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