The time had finally come. The coffee that I had consumed earlier rumbled through my digestive track like a freight train to Baltimore. I quickly assessed the situation. Would I be able to make it back home in time? Was it worth the risk? The inner dialogue did not carry on for too long before I had determined that I would need to participate in an away game. I slowly made my way to the men’s bathroom, attempting not to appear too hurried. As soon as I was, in I flew off to the stall. Taking my seat, I came eye level to a brilliant piece of local writing inscribed on the stall wall. “David is a pedophile”. At first this struck me as informative, but upon further consideration I determined that it was actually really rather useless. David is about the most common name I could think of. I can’t just live my life in fear of every David I encounter mysterious stall vigilante! My attention turned to the next piece of business at hand: the toilet paper. What I found appalled, dismayed, disillusioned, and rocked me to the very core of my being. There was no roll of toilet paper. Instead was what appeared to be an upside down tissue box. Toilet paper could only be taken out one square at a time. Perhaps this was a clever way to save the environment and even some money, I tried to reason. No amount of reasoning could have made up for what happened next. This toilet paper was half-ply. Not one-ply; half. After battling my way through I quickly exited the tiny, cluttered, favela of a stall. After washing my hands I was greeted with a roll of brown paper sitting beside the sink. The bottom, which was cold and soggy, ripped away from the rest of the sheet as I unfurled my portion. I rapidly exited the room, completing my away game.
The lighting was terrible. If there was ever a time I expected to see David appear whistling eerily, it would be in that restroom.
Paper towels littered the ground as if from the result of a mild paper based hurricane.
Overall I would say that I have participated in less fulfilling away games. Nevertheless the abysmal state of the tp, alongside the cramped conditions, lead me to rate it a dismal 1.5/5.
1.5/5 (Would not poop again)
– Logan Wolsfeld