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Tales from the Road – Part 2

Last week I promised y’all a story of why my backside is probably floating around the dark web. So, without further ado, on with the story. 

The place where I had to go to get my fingerprints done was a law office on the town square of Podunk, TX.  Incidentally, the square was adorable. The courthouse was just like you’d picture in your head. The outside of the law office was equally picturesque.  I open the door and it looked exactly like a law office in a small town should – old tin tiled ceiling, rich paint job on the walls and lovely decor. The waiting room was separated by a door so you really couldn’t see what was in the back of the office but suffice it to say the place looked nice. Yeah, it looked really nice until I was called back.

I was welcomed back (20 minutes after my appointment) and was met with cheap 1970s fake wood paneling and forest green shag carpet.  The furniture looked like it had been picked up at The Goodwill Store and the most high tech thing I saw was the fingerprinting rig.  After the fingerprinting was over, I asked if I could use the bathroom. The lady said, “Sure, it’s the first door on the left.”

I walked down the hall and the first door on my left looked like an abandoned, very dirty break room/kitchen. The lights were off and I couldn’t see much but I did notice litter on the countertops. I thought maybe the lady had her left from her right mixed up so I went to the first door on my right. That was a boardroom with more shoddy furniture and clearly not a bathroom.  So, I went back to the weird kitchen area.  It had two doors inside that room. The first door was a janitorial closet with a water heater and such.  Again, clearly not a bathroom.  The other door had reflective mailbox stickers – you know the black and gold kind that come on a big sheet in the automotive section at Walmart – that spelled out the word “Private”.  I tried that door expecting to find God only knows what behind the door but instead found a toilet.  

Hooray! Success, I found it. My back teeth were floating so you know whatever – any port in a storm. I felt around for the light, flicked the switch and shut the door all in one motion. The light started trying to come on overhead. It was buzzing and crackling like I was in some sort of creepy gas station in a bad slasher film.  There were actual flies buzzing around the toilet and half the ceiling was falling in.  I could see thick yellow insulation and what appeared to be broken duct work hanging out of the old sorta white-ish drop tile ceiling.  I say sorta of because some sections had ceiling tiles while other sections were completely missing. The wall opposite the toilet had a hole in it. Like I said, my back teeth were floating so I relieved myself. The whole time I was sitting there peeing all I could think of is this is the kind of place where they stash hidden cameras and you end up on the dark web, or worse some peeper creeper is sitting there looking at you pee from some glory hole cut into the wall or worst of all this is how my organs are going to be harvested and I will wake up in a bathtub full of ice.  Thank God, I peed quick.

I finished up and was happy to find very good toilet paper not the single ply wood chip variety – were talking Charmin. I stood up and attempted to flush and wouldn’t you know it the damn thing won’t flush.  I tried again, this time holding down the handle. I’ve had my fair share of experience with  cranky old toilets. The second time was a success but that too was a near miss.  Incredibly, the sink had soap but no paper towels.  I shook my hands like Dash in Incredibles 2 and used a big wad of toilet paper to complete the job.  But, wouldn’t you know it, the trash can situation was a train wreck as well. The trash can was a standard plastic kitchen garbage can with the top ripped off and no trash bag liner. There was several wadded up pieces of toilet paper or white substance in the bottom so I just added mine to the collection and super fast walked out of that place.  When I got to my car, I doused my hands in Purell.  

So, if you happen to be noodling around on the dark web and you find a picture of a woman in red Flora Bama bar tshirt on the toilet that’s me.  Sorry my ass is so white and not tanned. You’re welcome. 

And, as if all of this wasn’t enough, sometime while I was driving home I got an email stating they didn’t get a good enough print on a few of my fingers and they have to re-do it! To say I’m pissed is an understatement. All that driving and the creepy bathroom for nothing. There is no way I’m going back to that crazy place to get my prints done. Now, I get to go have my prints done at another place. Let’s all pray it’s not at some run down law office Podunk, TX. 

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