The Thinker

Last night I got caught in a monsoon. We had a volleyball match I had to attending across campus and I had no choice but to get drenched on my walk/run to the car.

Upon arrival to the arena, I am soaked from head to toe and didn’t enjoy the prospect of sitting at the match for over three hours soaking wet. So I went to the tiny laundry room in the building (which is always locked and very few people have keys), and I closed the door behind me, tossed my shirt and pants into the dryer and sat on a stool for 20 minutes.

Me. Only wearing boxers and in a horribly cramped laundry room

Me. Only wearing boxers and in a horribly cramped laundry room

I’m sitting there with nothing to do but make sure my junk doesn’t fall out of my boxers as I’m sitting here looking like “The Thinker.” The gym is filling up with fans and I’m thinking “this could be pretty horrific if someone came in here right now. I’d have a lot of explaning to do. This is how people get arrested. Someone would get the most horrible ideas of me being in here, with no pants, and by myself.”

And that’s when I looked down into the corner of this tiny, cramped, kinda dirty and disgusting room, by the water heater.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only person to ever be in that laundry room, because lying on the floor was a Lucky Boy condom wrapper.

That's gross. Also, not mine.
That’s gross. Also, not mine.

Luckily my pants dried well before someone came in and I had even more explaining to do. But it begs the question: Who is railing some broad in the laundry room of a gym? And what classy lady is saying “yes” to the offer?

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