james

So I was at this pub the other night and my hands were juust DRENCHED. I mean, they were really really wet. I didn't know what to do. Was I supposed to walk (like a chump) over to the towel dispenser and dispense myself some towels? That's what chumps do. So I thought to myself, if only there was a way I could give someone money to dry them FOR me.

This never happened. It is true that my hands were wet. It is also true that I considered dispensing myself some towel. It is not true that I wished I could pay someone to dry my hands for me. By the time I would have fished out a couple of bucks from my pocket, I would have already half-dried my hands on the lining of my pocket...at which point a hand-drying would not be necessary. Unless I waited until after the hand-drying to pay. But that's just not very plausible.

A dude standing in a washroom, wielding a tube of paper towel, getting mad at you for not giving him your money, is someone that I could do without. I shouldn't feel bad for drying my hands without help. Don't get me wrong, if I took a little spritz of one of the many bottles of cologne lining the sink, I would give him a buck or two. Heck, I'd even pay one canadian dollar to help myself to a slice of gum...that would make a pack of gum worth approximately $12.

Maybe I'm a jerk. Or maybe, I'm a revolutionary. Or maybe (just maybe), I'm a hero.

Think about it.

jt

PS- Ladies, if you don't know what I'm talking about, take a gander into the men's washroom of an upscale pub. You'll see.

Labels: wet hands