The Neverclean State College

From 1999 to 2001 I worked as a counselor at The Evergreen State College. I rarely speak of this, as I experienced some rather traumatic episodes during my tenure there.

I speak particularly of the morning of February 4, 2001, which, as you'll note, marks 4 years to the day. Anniversaries, macabre or sentimental, as I'm sure you'll agree elicit vivid remembrances where once there was only a gentle droning.

I entered the men's restroom promptly at 8:00 AM as was my custom, owing largely to my 45-minute commute. Almost immediately I knew something wicked stirred. And though I'm by no means a visual learner, the air in that dank facility glowed orange with foreboding.

The door of the last stall stood 3/4 open, and in spite of my fear, I mustered the strength to push my way in.

"Oh, our Lord God in Heaven," I moaned, scarcely able to control my...

hysterics.

Apparently, and I knew rather recently, a bowel had met its end here. And based upon the fecal pattern, reaching as high as 5 feet against both the back wall and the interior stall door, the explosion had been terrible and violent.

Then again, being as this was The Evergreen State College, it might also have been an art project.

Nevertheless, trained as I was in search and rescue from my years as a firefighter/EMT, I looked for body parts: a leg, an arm, Heather B. Armstrong's buttocks, anything that one might expect to find from such utter devastation.

Nothing.

So I did what any normal guy would. I ran to the financial aid office to tell my buddies how funny the bathroom looked.

And for two hours this went on. Every 20 minutes or so Brian, Colby or Barry would go to the bathroom and emerge half-gagging, half-giggling. They'd come and slap me on the shoulder, and I'd laugh, "See? I wasn't shitting you, was I? Did you see the big brown handprint?"

After about our third run, Diane stopped by, listened more closely to what we were yukking over, and asked these insightful questions:

Diane: So there's shit all over the public bathroom?

Me: Yeah!

Diane: And when did you notice this?

Me: Oh, a long time ago! When I first got here!

Diane: And did you call custodial services?

Me: Um. Er. Eeg.

Diane looked at me in disgust, picked up the phone that was sitting right next to me and dialed down the middle.

After calling in a cutting crew, Diane glared at me until my head bowed in shame and submission.

When she walked away, I looked at Brian, Colby and Barry, the importance of what had just happened now suddenly apparent:

Me: Well, guys, you know what this means. We better go take one last look before they clean that shit up. Anyone got a camera?

And sadly, not one of us did.


But now it's over, the moment is gone
I followed my hands, not my head,
I know I was wrong