Some things can be shared, and others should always remain private. Borders‘ bathrooms are public, so is this story…
It was Late Spring 2001, BJ, Jeff, and I converged on the Gilligan household to meet up with Dan and head out on a search for an apartment big enough to hold the four of us. As usual, we were running a little behind, but still had plenty of time to make our rounds.
After talking about nothing for who-knows-how-long, we gathered our essentials and set out on our journey, all of us prepared – or so we thought.
Not more than five miles down the road from Dan’s house, we were approaching the local Borders? store. What follows is probably an inaccurate, yet sufficiently descriptive account of the ensuing conversation:
Dan (to the driver, presumably me): Can we stop by Borders? real quick?
Me: What for?
BJ: Yeah, what do you need to stop at Borders? for?
Jeff (No doubt waiting for his opportunity to interject well-timed, yet subtly hilarious wit at any moment): Silence
Dan: Can we just stop?
Me: We’re kind of on a tight schedule
Dan: I have to take a crap, ok!
BJ: DAN! We JUST left your house!
Me: Yeah, Dan, why didn’t you just go to the bathroom at your house?
Dan: I didn’t have to go then?
BJ: In the time between now and when we left your house, you have a bad enough urge that we have to stop at Borders??
Jeff: And why Borders??
Dan: Shut up. I can’t help it. And Borders? has nice bathrooms.
Me: Yeah, but you don’t even get to take the magazines in with you.
Dan: You guys suck.
Yes, Dan, we most certainly do.
Dan didn’t end up living with us that year, but thanks to that fateful day we’ve been blessed with that story. And now, every time we step into a Borders? we think of Dan and his bowels. Thanks, Dan.]]>