March 30, 2008
I spent yesterday in a crusty old bar (btw, it’s never a good idea to start drinking at 1:00 in the afternoon (see previous day’s posts)). Fun time had by all but I had to face my evil nemesis: the cloth towel dispenser. You know what I’m talking about. Those awful rolls of towels in metal dispensers. The ones you have to crank until you find a dry/clean spot. Yuck! And like 90% of them, this one didn’t work/was out of towels. So I did the only thing I could. I used my pants to dry my hands. The only saving grace was that the door on the bathroom was a push out. Or hands free, as I like to call them.
I’m so used to going to casinos where everything is automated. The urinal flushes when you walk away, the water turns on when you place your hands under the faucet and paper towels magically appear with a wave of the hand. No touching where someone else’s nasty hands have been. A germaphobes dream. It makes losing money that much more enjoyable (until I think about the guy that didn’t wash his hands playing my machine).
Anyway, through the power of alcohol, I survived. After much beer (and an order of chicken nuggets), I didn’t care so much.
And I’m thinking about buying this: