I-90



Written by: CheesyBoy

The long 7 hour drive can make tedium seem interesting, and I decide to take a break and do a little masturbating to relieve the stress of boredom. While I pride my self on being irresponsible, masturbating while driving seems to push past the territory of boldly irresponsible into the realm of complete retardation. I pull off I-90 into one of the rest areas I head for the men’s bathroom.

Written in pencil on the back of the stall door are the words “LOVE IS THE GIFT OF GOD!!” The whole thing is written in a too careful hand of a man who is so excited by the sentence that proper expression of the excitement requires not one but two exclamation points with a smile underneath them, so that points on the exclamation points look like eyes of a face. I wonder idly that if the dots are the eyes, what are the lines above the dots? Could it be hair? I conclude that it is hair, hair that though sheer excitement decided to stand straight up.

I start to really wonder about the person who did this. Written in all capital letters, I assume to convey even more excitement at the prospect of telling random poopers about God, love and gifts. I try to think about what level of education this guy received. The hand writing is neat and practiced, but the syntax is the linguist equivalent of rape, both using and destroying English at the same time. Assuming I’m interpreting it correctly, it should read “Love is a gift from God.”

At first look I assume that the man had abandoned lowercase letters altogether, but upon closer inspection I realize that the L in love is bigger then all the other letters, twice the size in fact, making it a kind of capital letter among capital letters. I quietly applaud the man’s ingenuity.

I once again come back to what kind of person would do this, a child? That would explain the strained use of English and the stupidity of thinking that the extra exclamation point would convert any would be poopers who meander into this stall. It’s possible that a child who practices his letters a great deal could have such a well formed V, but no. It is written to high for a child to have written it, the person would have to of been my height to have written comfortably that high on the stall door.

It would have had to been a man, a man who lacks the child’s excuse of naivety for thinking that this poor pretext of a sentence would convert future would be poopers or the occasional masturbator. Could it just be that he wished to express himself and didn’t care whether anyone listened or cared? Could this be a sentence written just to make a mark upon the world? But it was written in pencil, a poor medium for permanence.

I realize that I have been diverted from my masturbating duties. Could that be the true purpose, to distract would be masturbaters? It certainly seemed to be working, but the whole idea seemed too conspiratorial for belief. That some one would go around writing nonsense in bathroom walls so that masturbaters would not enjoy the pleasure of their own company seemed to grand and convoluted of a scheme. And if it was, there certainly would be better ways then writing nonsense, you could write the word "Grandmother" on the back off all stall doors.

I concede defeat, this random assemblage of words that could be mistaken as a sentence has so captured my attention that I continue to forget that I should be masturbating. With these words scrawled in front of me holding concentration long enough to masturbate feels akin to trying to grab an eel with your bare hands. I get up to leave the bathroom, and halfway to the exit I step in what I happily assume is water. A fun reminder that I’m not wearing shoes, I do not move my feet. The damage is done, and anymore steps could well lead me into even further wet danger.

So I stand still, wondering if an STD can be transmitted via either urine or random puddles of water. I remember that I took off my shoes when I spilled gas on them, and then proceeded to put them in the back of my car when the fumes from my shoes start to get to me while I was driving, and while I am not morally opposed to fun with fumes, I am opposed to passing out while driving, though for strictly cowardly reasons.

Depending on where you are, varying articles of clothing become more or less important. Shoes are the keystone example of this. When you are asleep in your bed, shoes are very unimportant, when in a public bathroom though, the magnitude of their importance is inverted. I dare say that no article of clothing is more important in a public bathroom then shoes, the one article of clothing I am not wearing.

Standing in wetness I amend my previous statement, I am also not wearing a scarf, my shame deepens.

I find that I am exploring that realm of complete retardation I feared to explore after all. Is that what my God loving friend was doing? Was he sitting on the crapper when he decides to explore and push the boundaries of idiocy, is he the Marco Polo of stupidity?

Well push on my fine brain damaged friend. Keep writing nonsense on bathroom walls, and I’ll see what new and exciting places I can not wear shoes in. Maybe someday we will meet, and together we will push civilization back several decades.