If any of my loyal readers watch Curb Your Enthusiasm then this story will be even funnier. After a long night in New York City on St. Patrick's Day that consisted of seeing an old friend from Hawaii, seeing a weird electronica band called Stereolab, drinking lots of Guinness, waking up next to some strange girl, and chewing my arm off to get out of there before she woke up, my buddy Tom picked me up in the city and we headed down the New Jersey Turnpike to attend my buddy Jason's housewarming/engagement party. On a side note, I did get to walk through New York's plant and flower district (which I never knew existed) and walk past the original Scores (which, of course, I knew existed). But I digress.
So we are cruising down the New Jersey Turnpike and stop at the Molly Pitcher Rest Area to get some gas and go to the bathroom. I am standing in line in the men's room waiting for the next uninal or stall to open up. It must have been a good day because the handicapped stall opens up and I slide right in. I really enjoy using the handicapped stall, be it number 1 or 2, because there is so much more room and the door opens out. Don't you hate when it opens in and you have to be careful not to rub the back of your pants on the front of the toilet? So I am doing my business and I hear someone trying to open the door. The door is clearly locked so some guy must be a real dick. I finish up and walk out but no one is there. Then I look down and see some guy sitting in his wheelchair waiting to go. Man did I feel like an asshole. I thought shit like that only happens to Larry David. I guess I was wrong.
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