Just Off Center

When I was in the Air Force I had to work out quite a lot to meet minimum physical standards. At my most unfit I was going to the gym twice every day, once in the morning before work, then again for lunch. My machine of preference has always been the crosstrainer. What a great workout you can get on that thing. My least favorite has always been the stationary bikes. They make me sticky, and stickiness is for girls. But just to keep some spice of variety in my routines I would occasionally do some treadmill jogging.

Whatever cardio I was doing I was always listening to music. The gym on base was pretty nice. They had a wall of televisions, radio stations, and CD players that we could use. I usually like to play Rage Against the Machine's Battle of Los Angeles. There's just something about hearing "More for Gore or the son of a drug lord" when exercising in a government facility that just gets me pumped. The music is transmitted by remote throughout the room and can be tuned in on any cardio machine using the radio receiver attached. You have to bring your own headphones.

The receivers on the treadmill are at the bottom of the digital display, right in the front center of the machine. One morning I was chugging along when one of the televisions caught my eye off to the left. I can't remember what it was, but I think it was a cartoon or some stupid shit like that. Since my head was turned, my body started to run at a slight angle as well. Here's what happened next:

06:25:21 - My left foot lands on the siderail propelling me forward
06:25:28 - My right knee, still trying to run, smashes into the treadmill
06:25:92 - Blinded by surprise and pain I place my right foot back down...on the moving tread
06:26:20 - The tread throw my right foot back causing me to lose my footing
06:26:88 - My face smashes against the instrument controls
06:27:41 - I regain my footing on the tread, still not on the sidebar, and let my body roll to the back of the treadmill where I will step off
06:28:59 - I realize I'm still wearing my headphones when my feet and body are force off the tread
06:29:06 - I land my knees hard on the still moving tread and attempt to pop myself back onto my feet while planting them on the side rails
06:31:04 - I am successfully on the siderails, but have overshot my leap resulting in too much backward motion
06:33:25 - After unsuccessfully flapping my arms around to regain balance I fall backwards off of the treadmill, landing on my ass. I am safely off the treadmill
06:39:12 - I shake off the shock of what just happened and start to feel the pain in my right shin, both knees, nose, and ass
06:41:16 - I realize I am in a gym room with about 25 other people, all witness to my mishap

I had no choice but to get up off of my ass and start heading for the exit. As I was about to leave I decided to finally press the emergency stop button on the treadmill. Chuckles were beginning to escape like gas. I got my towel and headed out of the room. Full volume, mass laughter ensued. I was alright, just a little banged up, and filled with a level of mortification not known since the seventh grade P.E. hard on incident. But this wasn't the most recent time I did something stupid that taught me a lesson in humility and saw me scurrying for the nearest exit.

About a year ago I was enjoying a nice after lunch dump. It was about 1:00 PM so all of the stalls were full and there was a pretty good crowd at the urinals as well. I was in one of the middle stalls with people on both sides. For the women reading this I'll explain some of the physics involved in what happened. When a man sits down to shit, he'll most likely take a couple pisses too. In order to accomplish this the man must ensure that the penis is over the bowl and pointed at a downward angle so that the piss strikes the bowl at least below the rim. Some guys are endowed enough to not have to check this positioning. I can attest that the average sized man doesn't have this conveniece. Plus it's cold in there.

As I was sitting there I looked up and noticed that there was a toothpick sticking out of the ceiling as if fired up there through a straw. This was not a very interesting discovery, but a bathroom stall isn't exactly chock full of entertainment. So I look up to above my head and saw the toothpicks directly above my head. After a couple seconds I lost interest again and returned my view to the newspaper stuck to the door. As I was looking back down I heard a very very faint sound like water trickling. I looked down to see that when I had looked up my dick had moved out of the safe zone and I was pissing on the top of the rim spreading piss all over the floor. I had been at this for several seconds by the pooling.

After quickly repositioning yself I look in horror as I noticed that the grouting of the small floor tiles was beginning to act as a series of drainage ditches. The piss was on the move toward the shoes of my poo poo partners. My first thought was to use my shoes as dams to the flow. This worked only a little bit. The pee was now force to focus itself between my shoe and the grout. And it just kept creeping. It was now at the urinal walls. There was no way that either of the men next to me wouldn't see it. I could only pray they weren't looking down. I had to get out of there.

But I hadn't even wiped my ass yet. And so it was a race against the clock. Could I clean myself off, pull up my pants, tuck in my shirt, buckle my belt, flush, and bolt before the piss reached their shoes. I decided that speed was more important then hygiene so I gave myself only one pull on the toilet paper to get the job done. I yanked up my pants, stuffed my shirt down, put my belt in the loop, flushed, and hauled ass. I couldn't risk letting anyone know it was me. I'm a contractor. I threw my hands under hot water and ran out the door, leaving urine footprints in my wake. After a trip to my car I was able to locate another pair of shoes. I was free at last. Nobody saw me exit the stall and my shoes were not unidentifiable.

I can assure you that my life is frought with things like this. I walk into open cabinet doors. I walk into screen doors. I trip on my own feet. I bang my funny bone on everything. I am an absolute klutz. Luckily, I have developed a tolerance to the pain I cause myself on such a regular basis. But it's only a matter of time before I light up a cigarette and spontaneously explode into flames.