My job carries me all over this wonderful country, and I get to see some awesome sights, groovy places and interesting peoples that I often write about here. (Yes, I said groovy, live with it.) I spend a lot of time on the road, and thusly spend time in search of side of the road water closets ( I rather like that term, it sounds so much better than restroom, or it's southern U.S. version, �bathroom�). These are often exciting adventures which one might leave laughing, pondering what you just saw, or fearing for your life.

When you consider different types of people, remember that there are also subsets of types of peoples within those types. For example, let's take the white community. When you say white people, you shouldn't lump all white people into one category. Within this group are many other subgroups and subsets of those groups.

I hope that one day we as a civilization mature enough to automatically categorize each person separately as a unique individual. Instead of assigning some obscure �net worth� value based on appearances, skin color, sexual preferences, or anything else for that matter. I'm afraid, however, that time has not yet arrived. But I digress. Let's return to our story.

Recently I was traveling through Arizona on interstate I-40 on my way to Los Angeles. When in the western united states, one notices that rest areas are spaced much further apart than Virginia for example. One must also hope that she or he notices this prior to needing said facilities. On this particular afternoon I was hoping I would see anything that even resembled a travel stop. A rest area would have to do, as it was the only thing within fifty miles. Public rest areas are really not the nicest, cleanest, or even safest places to be in. I detest using them, but here was an example where the alternative was unthinkable. I stopped the truck, set the brakes and scoped the lot. The place looked pretty quiet and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. I decided I couldn't wait, and if I was going to be held up by some nut cake with a pistol, I would just shit all over the guy. I was gonna do that anyway if I didn't hurry up.

These types of places are also havens for gay guys looking for that impulse date. Granted, I understand spontaneity, but these days casual sex is worse than Russian roulette! I just don't think I could stick my Willie in somebody that I don't even know their name. No sir, not me. Most of the time these guys are okay, they just hang about making their presence known, and sometimes their intention. They might write on the stall wall what they are looking for and the date and time, maybe even what they are wearing. They might include which car they are in. These guys don't bother me. I don't partake of their services, per se, but each to his or her own I say. It's the aggressive one's I don't like. Here is where I draw the line. For a guy to harass you in the lavatory, after you've made it plain you aren't interested, is just that, harassment, plain and simple. Unanted sexual advances are unfair no matter if they be man on woman or man on man, or any other variation.

I'm one of those big jerks that butt in when I see a guy continuing to harass a girl at a bar or where ever after she has said no. What these clowns don't seem to realize is that no means no. I realize there is sometimes some gray area where a budding relationship is involved, but, �Get lost creep� really means no in any situation to me.

There isn't much to do in a bathroom stall unless you remembered to bring a magazine or something. For lack of anything to focus on, my eyes were drifting from one proposition to another. I find it interesting that these guys are very narrow in their preferences and sexual criteria considering where they are shopping. One guy wants only young, uncut fellows with no hair anywhere. I was half laughing out loud at that when I noticed it.

An eye. A real, honest to God human eye! It was in a little hole carved in the wall, and it was looking at me! �Holy fucking shit!� I yelled aloud before I knew it. It just startled me Okay, I might understand peeping at a guy standing up urinating, maybe you get a chance shot of that uncut hairless variety your looking for, but peeping at a guy pinching a loaf? Gross! �What the hell are you looking at?� I asked the eye. The eye blinked, but didn't answer. Suddenly, my fear turned to anger. I somehow felt violated. As I sat there looking at this eye that was looking at me, I wanted to strike out. I felt the need to lash out in response to my anger, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I poked the eye with my finger. That eye sure as hell closed then I'll tell you! The eye screamed out in pain and went away. I couldn't help but akin it to some old horror movie, like �War of the Worlds� or something where that alien sent it's eyeball into the house to scout for occupants and they cut it off. Did you ever see that? That's what I was thinking of as I burst out of the stall, leaving behind me sounds of the eyeball stomping it's feet and writhing in pain.

Now I know I should have just left well enough alone, but, you know me. ...

Up the sidewalk came this huge biker dude with an inordinate amount of tattoos and piercings on and in his body. I mean big huge ones like, �I skull fucked my mother� or something equally as lavishly remarkable.

As soon as I saw this guy, I knew that I somehow was going to get this guy involved. It was like a gift from heaven or something, I just could not pass this opportunity up. As I walked up to him, I was getting that look, you know the one, where your deciding what the hell this guy wants. You see, anything much more than, �How's it going� in combination with the casual nod, is taboo at a rest area for your everyday heterosexual. Yeah, from time to time you might get the weirdo that wants to talk about the weather or how the Cubs are doing in the playoffs while your staring at the wall hoping your piss isn't splashing too hard against the porcelain and running down your jeans (Yeah ladies, it ain't always easy having the penis). For the most part, guys act within the accepted social parameters within the restroom, but not this eyeball! Nosiree, it was following an etiquette unknown to me! I asked the biker dude if he rode in on that Harley parked at the curb. He said he did, and I told him that some guy in there (pointing back inside the restroom) was waiting on him. I know. That was too much, and I shouldn't have, but I was pissed off at the time. I wish I hadn't now.

�Oh yeah?� He asked looking shocked, then suddenly angry. �Yeah�, I said. He got that knowing look on his face, and then his face twisted up. �Ummm� I stuttered, but he was already marching into the building. I heard some commotion within, and I scurried along my way. That was rotten of me, but one thing is for sure, more than likely that eye won't be staring at anyone for awhile. I am also relatively sure that eye won't make un requested or even unwanted advances anymore.

I know I could have just made an entry that said, (insert New York accent here), �Some guy peeped in on me in the bathroom so I poked his freakin' eye out.� , but then you would have lumped me into that group of people known as anti-gay, which I am not. I am neither gay, nor anti-gay. I truly feel that whatever you do is okay with me, just don't push whatever you are selling on me if I'm not interested is all I'm saying. I don't care if it's gay sex, politics, religion, or whatever. That's all I'm saying. Word.

Have a great day D*Land!

tim

UPDATE: I've been corrected about my New York accent. Please replace all freaking's with freakin', as any good New Yorker would never say freaking. Thank you, and that is all.