My not-so-conveniently weak bladder and longer commute to work often cause me to dash to the bathroom in Penn Station before my 15 min walk to the office when I get off the train. And when I say bathroom, I mean a series of metal stalls with doors hanging off the hinges that barely lock, which are in front of a set of motion-activated sinks that never work, adjacent to empty soap dispensers that contain a thin layer of pink slime at the bottom. But why complain? At least there is always toilet paper!
Lately I've encountered some interesting strangers--aside from other weak-bladdered commuters--but they're invisible and they love to leave clues to guess their identity. Exhibit A. above wrote a little note that reads: "So long New York, for now." I was impressed with grammar know-how to add the comma at the end for drama. If I were leaving NYC, the bathroom stall at Penn Station where I took a dump would be the last place I'd choose to leave yet another mark...but perhaps I would in the bathroom at the Museum of Modern Art--maybe they would add it to one of their post-post-modern exhibits?
For some reason I wanted to imagine a stumbling drunken man leaving this behind, but then I remembered I was in the women's bathroom.
Now, I've had some rough days at work that required (a few) happy hour drinks, but downing an entire bottle of wine alone before going home in a bathroom stall post-work is a new level of #FML (Fuck My Life)! What do you think transpired that day to bring her to such a dire need for a hazy state of mind? Maybe she was celebrating something? Either way, this commuter gets the "Most Creative Placement of an Empty Wine Bottle Award"! Cheers to making the most out of New York City's public bathrooms!