life on a chain

yorn_small.jpgSo picture this: I’ve just finished seeing my second Pete Yorn concert and, although it wasn’t quite as bitchin’ as my first, it was still pretty sweet, so now I feel inclined to gamble away the $0.41 I won in a prior trip to the casino floor (after losing $1.59). A quick visit to the “Nordic Quest” slot machine ensures that I will be leaving with my pockets empty.

But this is where our story really begins. I’ve felt a pressure from my bladder which can only indicate the need for urination. As I walk into the casino bathroom and choose the closest urinal (all eight or so are available), I’m aware of another man coming in behind me. Defying all laws of man-etiquette, he picks the urinal immediately next to mine. Being a man of high standards (or just a beneficial disinterest), I don’t turn to look at him as we both proceed to do our business.

At this point, the silence of the bathroom is broken by the man clearly stating something to the effect of “So you’re feelin’ better, huh?” Of course I am, so I chuckle a bit and say “yeah.” A couple of seconds later, he says something else which makes me steal a glance at his face – only to see that he is talking on a cell phone.

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