Michael Jackson once performed a song called Smooth Criminal. A band by the name of Alient Ant Farm went on to make that song cool. Last night, I made a Weird Al-esque parody of it… Smooth Imbecile.
It is a well known fact, just ask anyone who knows me, that I am less than coherent when I awaken from slumber. Downright incoherent. You would be lucky to get a grunt out of me for the first few hours after I awaken, much less anything resembling rational thought. If you want an answer from me, I could do that, but you should not trust that answer with your life as it will most likely end up with you dead.
So, when I awoke in the middle of the night and needed to use the bathroom, I followed a general pattern… stagger to the bathroom, take a seat, finish my business and go back to bed. Sadly, this time all did not go as planned.
I was able to lever myself upright, or at least into a staggering position, although it did take me several minutes to realize that my bladder rupturing would be worse than me missing out on a few minutes of sleep. From that point, next to the bed and swaying, it was a short walk, er, stagger, to the bathroom. No need to turn on the lights as it was my third night in the hotel room and I knew where all the furniture was so I wouldn’t kill myself falling over a piece of it.
Making it to the bathroom proved to be easy, or at least relatively so. I then proceeded to take a squat. Now, most guys never sit down just to release a little downward pressure on the bladder, and during the day I am standing with the best of them, but night time is a totally different story. I feel no shame about sitting down for several reasons:
- Sitting is much closer to lying down, the position in which I would most like to be in when it is dark outside.
- Despite what the women out there think, it is NOT easy to aim one of these things. It takes lots of practice, skill and determination to even aim as well as we do. Add in my near unconsciousness, a dark room and no contacts in my eyes and you can imagine just how bad my aim could be. Instead of waking up and across a soiled bathroom floor, I choose to leave my man-card on the nightstand and take the woman’s way out.
- Sitting down means I am considerably more stable than when standing. This is another issue where, had I been awake for a few hours, standing would not be an issue. I was lucky to make it to the bathroom without falling down. I don’t like to push my luck any more than that before at least noon.
The pain in the forehead was when my forehead collided with the door. The pain below my eye was where the edge of my eye socket collided with the hanger mounted on the back of the door. Amazingly, my balance stayed with me and I pulled backwards before I could make myself into a cyclops.
In a state of deep denial about what had just happened, I ripped open the door and staggered back to the bed to console myself. A few minutes later, a nasty realization occurred… my eye was starting to puff up. I could see it now, trying to explain to everyone at work, why it was I had a black eye. To say I would NEVER live that one down, would be an understatement.
Picking my hurting head back up off the pillow, I went back to the cursed bathroom, pushed the door back open and wet down a washcloth with cold water. Turning from the sink, making sure to keep my hands out in front of me, feeling to make sure the door wasn’t trying for a second shot at my eye, I exited the bathroom and made it safely back to bed. A few minutes with the cold cloth made me feel better, but I was still worried about the possibility of it blackening. No way was I going to chance yet another chance to the bathroom to check. It would be better tomorrow, I had faith that it would, so the washcloth was chucked to the nightstand and I rolled over… right on my eye. Ouch, again, but a small ouch this time.
Morning came. More staggering. More fighting with the bathroom door, although this time I think I won. Lights came on and no swelling or blackness was to be found on my face. Catastrophe avoided.