Traumatic bathroom encounter on Caltrain! →[More:]So both BART and Caltrain are late today, I already had to pee really badly by the time the Caltrain finally arrived, and it's one of those ultra-slow stop-at-every-station trains. So no way I could possibly hold it.

Keep in mind this is one of the old, clunky trains, so there's only one car with a bathroom. I found it eventually, stepped inside the little metal closet, and tried to shut the door. It wouldn't shut, so I kept trying to wiggle it open and closed until something gave and it finally shut. Great, now my hands were probably covered in ten different flu strains, and I didn't bring my hand sanitizer.

Then I opened the toilet lid, and BAM. THE. WORST. SMELL. EVER. Like the worst porta potty you've ever been in, left to ferment in an air-tight container for several weeks. This toilet clearly contained a supernatural wormhole to Satan's sewer.

So I pulled my shirt up over my mouth and nose and tried to breathe as little as possible. When I was done, I rinsed of my hands in the grimy sink (there was no soap, of course), then attempted to use a paper towel to open the door. Of course. It was stuck again. Clearly two hands and nearly all ten fingers were going to be required, and no paper towel was going to withstand the force of maneuvering that blasted door open.

So here I sit on the slow-ass train, typing to you, with filthy hands and probably emanating that diabolical odor, hoping against all odds that I don't have to blow my nose until I get I chance to wash up. If the smell reaches you through this post, please accept my apologies. And it might be a good idea to wash your hands. No telling what germs might have jumped from my fingers to the text on this page.