This morning as I sat in a stall in A&W taking care of business, little did I know the strange direction my life was about to take.
The guy who was standing at the stall when I entered the toilet, began to sing. Yes really. Sing.
He reached down deep and pulled an old blues song up from out of his depths, while he stood there, peeing.
He had a deep voice, but I honestly was distracted by the fact that I was sitting on the toilet, and he knew that, and he was standing at a urinal, draining his bladder, singing the blues.
I suppressed a laugh, trying to take care of my own concerns. After quite a long time, he came to the end of his song. A big, loud finish.
A few squeaks of laughter nearly slipped past my lips.
And then, it got worse. Out of nowhere, Harmonica noise filled the Toilet. Yes, thatâ€™s what I said, harmonica.
Loud, soulful harmonies rose above the noise of the fan, while he stood there, peeing.
I donâ€™t know how he played it so well, because he was covering it somehow, and shaking his uh, hands, creating a vibrato with the harmonica. I mean I would think he needed one hand to, well to aim if Iâ€™m honest about it. Where did he get enough hands to play harmonica too.
It was just a very surreal moment, and I covered my laughter with my hands.
And after standing too long at the urinal, singing and playing the blues, he zipped up his pants, and without washing his hands, said in a deep Elvis tone; â€œThank you. Thank you very much.â€