It's the day of my Tues-daily ritual, sitting in Caribou Coffee for an hour and a half before my Marketing class. Here I am serene and contemplative. Maybe it's the soothing Beatles music they're playing today. Maybe it's my foo-foo drink I'm sipping; an Orange Zest Cooler (think frappuccino for those uneducated. . .). Maybe it's the incredibly racist graffiti I read carved into the wall of the mens room.
Now that I think about it, it's not for that reason.
So, I enter the Caribou establishment with "tasty refreshment" on my mind and "get to the toilet!" in my bladder. I attempt to open the door to the mens room only to find it locked. Practically pinching myself to contain the near flash flood of man pee about to spew forth from my nethers, I kill the few minutes by actually ordering my beverage. By the time the occupant of the mens room exits I already have my drink in hand. My teeth are now floating in a sea of orange zestiness and my bladder is the size of a small child.
I enter the room and proceed to doff my backpack, jacket and hoodie. The moment has arrived. Salvation is here! As I begin my "activities", I naturally glance anywhere except there. As I visually record the artwork on the wall, the well crafted porcelain of the toilet, the finely made plywood cabinets, I notice a phrase carved not delicately into the wooden trim of the room.
"All Hail Danny Glover, Prince of the Underworld."
I nearly began wetting the floor with my own special cleaner. Someone had then, post-carving, added the phrase "Black Panther" to the sentence. Now it read:
"All Hail Danny Glover, Black Panther, Prince of the Underworld."
I finished my business and found a seat to enjoy the rest of my orangey treat. Now all I can think about is how this graffiti will now color the way I see Lethal Weapon 3 from now on. . .
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