'Just give me a minute', I said. 'I'm not feeling so well.' At that moment, I decided that I was going to finish my business at my own leisurely pace, everyone else be damned. I had been in jail, a couple of convenience stores, a cab, and walking in the rain in the last few hours. Apparently I had been kicked out of my girlfriend's flat. I was tired. And I wasn't giving in. I finished the first beer, pulled out another, and coughed loudly to try to cover the sound of the can opening. I already felt better about myself and took a deep drink. 'Ahh'.
More rapping. "Seriously, buddy, can you please hurry it up a bit? My son..'
I interrupted him. "Your son? Listen, I'm in here, I gotta poop just as bad, I'm not going to rush it, and the way I see it, since I was here first, you gotta wait for me. You're on my schedule.' I was breathing heavy; angry, but still cautious. I listened and heard some cursing, then clearly, 'Thanks a lot, asshole!' I then heard the door open, then close, as the guy took off, looking for a more agreeable bathroom stall patron, I presume. I took a deep breath and sat quietly, evaluating things. I decided that by the time I finished the second beer, I would be done, I could clean up, and get out of there. (It just took a little longer than I thought). And that's exactly what I did, leaving 2 empty cans of malt liquor on the floor next to the scrubber. And I left through the back door.
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