Freaked. Out.

I know that I announced a hiatus just yesterday, but I have something to write about. I partly decided to have a blog break for a while, because the inspiration to write anything hadn't been there, so I thought I'd see what would happen after a while. In the 24 hours since, I have had many ideas. Ridiculous? I probably scared my blog brain into action lest it be shot, or scrambled by the rotating lady.

So a lot of the stuff I write on this blog is all a big joke. Whether it's funny is another issue, but generally, M.E. (My Everest for those of you struggling) is about 80% stuff that amuses me, 10% stuff I've actually thought about or believe, 10% mountain. However, I assure you that what you are about to read is a serious matter, and I am definitely not laughing about it. So it begins...

Yesterday, feeling the call of nature, I visited my usual toilet in the underbellies of the uni. Don't get me wrong. I don't have a thing for underground toilets, or a rare condition in which I can only go to the toilet when I know there are at least ten storeys of classrooms and hundreds of students above me. It's just the toilet closest to where I usually am, which is the 'Batcave', which I will write about eventually.

So I go into a cubicle - specifically, fourth from the left - as today's agenda requests it. I drop the pants, sit down, and am just about to begin when... A FREAKIN HEAD POPS UNDER THE CUBICLE WALL. Yes. I do not kid. A head pops under. I noticed it a split-second after it happened, and only saw it retreating. I did not see the eyes, and I'm glad I didn't.

I sit. Absolutely freaked out. The shock means I no longer feel the urge to go to the toilet, but to run away as fast as I can and have a shower, possibly in another country... as surprisingly, I feel dirty. I take my bag off the hook on the door, slowly undo the lock on the door, flush the toilet and flee - yes...flee - the most disturbing experience of my life. What made it even worse was as soon as I flushed, the cubicle of the perverted head also flushed (even though I'm fairly certain they had only been in there about twenty seconds - most of which were used to be disturbingly freaky). I saw the door of the cubicle open just as I was leaving the toilet, and I didn't bother staying to see who it was.

I eventually found some other toilet in the uni, and though a little hesitant, decided to finish my previously interrupted business. As I sit there, being very careful to watch the space under the cubicle walls, I think about all the factors and variables. Why would they do it? How did they even get there? There's not that much space in the cubicle to get on the floor. Plus... it's dirty. What did they want? There was a lot of homosexual writing/graffiti in the cubicles: eg. "For fun times and naughty hookups, call Dan on ########## ;)"... perhaps they were expecting someone? If so... I'm never going to that cubicle again.

Then I thought of what I'd do if I found the person behind the head. If I was in that cubicle again, I'd probably stomp their stupid dirty face. A little violent? Yes. But I am outraged. My generally pleasant public toilet experience has now been soured by somebody who'd be better off in a toilet with George Michael.

This is the end of my rant. Hopefully now that this is out there, I can begin rebuilding my relationship with the university toilets, because I'd hate to have to walk an extra five minutes to the next ones, just to avoid the painful memories of this twisted encounter.