Tsunami

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• March 24, 2025

Before the giant rolling wave of a tsunami hits, the ocean will first rapidly recede unusually far from the shore– sucking up water for large and fast waves. If you ever see the ocean do this, turn and run. Run as fast as you can to high ground.

I didn’t have such a warning when I’d find myself stuck in a bathroom stall, showered by a toilet’s water works.

It goes like this. After a dinner date, I went to a comedy club, and after the comedy club, I walked to the Union Square subway station to get on the N/W to go home. It was around 11pm. Unfortunately, they were shutting down my subway line for one reason or another. Probably because they are using the new congestion toll pricing to improve the subway (this is sarcasm). And so, I decided to take an Uber home.

But first. Since it was a really lovely evening weather wise after a long, brick winter, I decided to walk a bit. Truly, I love walking around the city, listening to music. I was enjoying myself until the booze I had consumed pressured my bladder and I had to pee. As I was passing by a pub, I decided to march in and use their bathroom. This is a stunt I frequently pull if I have to use a restroom in the city. Just walk in, acting like you’re looking for someone and then retreat to the restroom.

I pulled my pants and underwear down and relieved myself. Ahhh… sweet relief. After wiping, I stood, pivoted my feet and while pulling my pants up, I raised a foot to flush the handle with my boot, pants still mostly down. Then, the handle went awry, and suddenly water started shooting at me from the handle itself.

Like a sprinkler, the shot in all directions. I pulled my hat from my pocket to try to shield myself, but the water spewed up and all over. Cursing and yelping, I tried pushing the handle again, only to make it worse. My balance was compromised, as was my vision from shielding my eyes as I pulled up my knickers while simultaneously trying to block water cascading all around me like a splash pad young children love.

The bowl, though not clogged, never flushed and was now being filled with water at an alarming rate, started to overflow. The floor of the stall quickly flooded. There was a woman in the stall next to me, asking me if I was okay as I’m screaming and swearing.

“The toilet! It’s exploding!” I made it out of the stall, throwing out my hat, drenched from my chest down. I literally would have been less wet if I just pissed myself. And maybe more clean? Most of the water, I think, wasn’t from in the toilet, but it was still New York City toilet water, no less. An absolute nightmare.

Because I wasn’t  a patron of the bar, I marched my soggy ass straight to the exit, too embarrassed (though it wasn’t really my fault), to the street and promptly summoned an Uber. Soaked, sitting in the backseat of the car, I was tempted to take off my pants, but I didn’t want to give the Uber driver any ideas. While walking into my apartment, I was already tearing off my clothes and jumped right in the shower, trying not to puke. I stood in the shower for a long time. Laughing and shuddering at the ordeal. And then I recalled something strange.

The date I had went on told me a tale of a crazy girl he went out with who refused to use the toilet inside, and went to the bathroom outside. What a strange foreshadowing, I thought. I texted him what happened to me, saying maybe that crazy girl wasn’t so bonkers after all.

Anyway. I haven’t heard from him since that night. Guess I scared him off. Tsunami’s do have a way of washing away a lot.