a rash of shit [1] for another story I sent in because I described some people as Mexicans. Well, yet again, a Mexican will be the antagonist in this story. If this will offend you in anyway, please stop reading now. It shouldn't offend you, though. I'm not making a generalization about all Mexicans-- I am simply describing a particular person. And please know, I am part Spanish myself.
So if you're all still reading this: the events that unfolded on this day will forever be etched into my brain. It was a normal Thursday, just like any other. We got to the job site at around eight AM. Today we would be working in Jersey City. If you're not from the metropolitan area, chances are you don't know much about Jersey City. Jersey City is about as clean as Detroit and about as fun to live and work in as Beirut. Think of it as downtown Kabul without the livestock running around. The powers that be have decided that Jersey City needed to be revitalized; and as such, tons of money is being invested to make the city like it once was. (Although I'm not really sure what it once was, since it's been a cesspool of filth and crime as far back as I can remember.)
We would be working in a new apartment complex fairly close to the water. The views are spectacular. From one side, you can see the Statue of Liberty; from the other, you can see the Empire State Building. But once you look down, you realize that you are indeed in Jersey City. Decrepit old people scurry along the sidewalk, rooting through garbage cans. Random stray dogs attack pigeons. All in all, it's a great place to work.
The day had been progressing along as usual and nothing out of the ordinary had taken place. Noon rolled around and I went up the street to get my lunch. Upon my return, my coworker had taken a seat on a nearby cinderblock and had his nice lunch laid out in front of him. I sat down near him, on the ground, and did the same. We were in a covered parking garage, away from all the hustle and bustle that is Jersey City. As we both dug into our lunches, it seemed, at that particular moment, as if we were in another town.
Our moment of solitude, though, would be short lived.
I took a heaping bite of my sandwich. Just as I was going to grab a swig of Gatorade, a brown log of some sort splattered to the ground a few feet from me. Globules of whatever this was hit my Gatorade bottle and the other half of my sandwich. I sat there for a second in confusion. My coworker was the first to realize what was happening.
"Somebody is fucken shitting in the drain up there!!!"
I grabbed my food and got the fuck outta the kill zone. Log after log came plummeting down through the hole, splattering upon the concrete parking deck below. I was absolutely awestruck as to what was happening. I really didn't know what to say or do.
My coworker was again the first to speak up. "Let's fucken get up there and see who's shitting! I'll kill that mother fucker!"
We ran up the stairs only to see a Mexican laborer coming out of the unit -- zipping up his pants. I freaked the fuck out.
Very few times in my life have I lost my mind completely. The last time was when I was locked up for kicking someone's ass in hockey [2]. But, before that, it had been quite a while. Times were about to change! Once I saw this guy coming out the unit, I slipped into a primal state of consciousness. You ever get so mad you can't even speak? Yeah, that's what happened.
The shitter looked at my coworker and myself and didn't utter a word. I was the first to speak this time, although it wasn't with words -- it was with my fist. I decked the shitter with a big left and down to the floor he went. My coworker and I grabbed him and dragged him down the stairs to the crime scene.
A small group of people had gathered in the vicinity of the fallen logs. Upon reaching the shit scene, we dropped him onto the pile of shit and started screaming at him every obscenity known to mankind. (In hindsight, I'd have to say it was pretty pointless to scream at him, since he didn't speak a word of English.)
The G.C. came running over after hearing the entire calamity. Once he was made aware of the situation, this particular laborer was banned from the complex and his boss was fined. From what I hear, the fine is like $10,000. Nothing happened to my coworker and I, except for a shit-flavored sandwich and a bruised knuckle.
Now, before any of you pass judgment on me for slugging this guy, please bear in mind: he took a shit on my sandwich and almost on me! And that's not the worst part. There are almost thirty port-a-johns on this site no less then fifty feet away. Instead of walking to a port-a-john, he decided to just hunker down over a hole and shit like an animal.
Witnessing all this made me wonder about the crapping etiquette of other nations and peoples. I had always thought that shitting, in its purest form, was pretty much universal. You found a place out of the way, dropped trou and let loose. It boggled my mind to think that someone would just take a shit in an empty hole, not knowing where that hole would lead. You could see the parking deck through the hole. Are we that different here in America? Or is it just me?
