Editor's Note: This piece comes to us courtesy of The Manhattan Daily, New York City's
finest journalistic outlet. For more info on The Manhattan Daily, email them.
The most terrifying moment in a person's life is the split second when the
water rushes to the top of a toilet bowl, showing no signs of stopping.
Similarly, the darkest hour is when that water creeps ever so slowly, and you can
only look on helplessly. For Jeff Aiken, that was the night of June 5.
After noticing slow shower drainage, it never occurred to Aiken that the
problem might have also spread to the toilet. A 2AM flush lead to a one hour
Vigil of Doom, as the water, contents unidentified, rose slowly towards the top
of the bowl.
At approximately 3AM, with one centimeter of porcelain between normalcy and
chaos, Aiken decided the time for waiting had passed. A five second donning of
enough clothes to cover his vitals, Aiken sprinted approximately 400 meters to
the local corner store. Upon asking for plungers, he was directed to a stack of
Fancy Feast cat food. This was no good.
Unsuccessful attempts to awaken his roommate to watch the bowl meant at that
point, the toilet was probably fountaining the goods from all over the building
all over his bathroom. After two more unsuccessful plunger searches at local
corner stores, spanning another 200 meters, Aiken made the mad dash home armed
with only a roll of paper towels.
A sweaty and exhausted Aiken, running on legs already well used from the
evening's basketball game, burst through the door and collapsed at the dry foot
of a flushed toilet. People in the house recall being awakened by a loud noise
coming from the bathroom right after Aiken left.
"That was the sound of God flushing a toilet," Aiken says. "I was totally
praying for it before. I told Him I would change my ways and everything. I guess
he waited till I ran around outside so I could show that I really wanted that
toilet to flush."
He remains convinced of this fact.
-- Jeff A.