Whoops

After a couple rounds at the shooting range, some 11 odd drinks and a fantastic dinner, all courtesy of The Daddy, we were whisked away to a local watering hole for a change of scenery. Upon arrival, I followed Kevy Wevy to the little boys' room.  It was early yet.  The bar hadn't quite transitioned from to bar from restaurant.  As such, intermittent middle-aged folks were spread throughout.  While Kevy filled the toilet like a garden hose a swimming pool, I banged away at the door for no particular reason.  Actually, I was moments later reprimanded for doing so. Kevy Wevy finished up and exited the one-person bathroom.  I took his place in the john, though ill-equipped to do the aforementioned analogy any justice.  The door, which was situated just beside the toilet, began to open.  Operating under the assumption it was one of my buddies, I took a step back from the toilet, further exposing myself and the water fountain emanating from my groin.  The old guy's eyes got really big as he apologized, and retreated, and slamming the door shut.  Brief embarrassment gave way to uncontrollable laughter when I heard the old man faintly add from beyond, "Lock the door!"   

The picture above was taken of me the next morning.  It was cold.