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Location: Schaumburg, Illinois

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I recently finished reading The Chris Farley Show (I strongly recommend this book for everyone) and have been wanting to buy SNL’s Best of Chris Farley. After my fiancee’s grandmother’s 90th birthday party in the northwest suburbs (very lovely gathering, by the way) Saturday late afternoon/early evening, I decide to stop by and buy it. Right away, I find the last one on the shelf as my fiancée is looking for other “bargains,” and I pass it to her when I realize my stomach is rumbling. I decide to take a trip to the men’s room in search of a better life for myself. That’s when complications began to arise.As I walk towards the men’s room, a mother is telling her son “it’s okay, use the bathroom, I’ll be right here” or something like that. I remember being that age (about 7-9) and public bathrooms were not your friend. I walk in just behind the little boy and see him glance at the urinal for a brief second – and then he walks to the rear stall. DAMMIT!! The middle stall is taken, and I think pooping in a urinal on a Saturday afternoon is a felony in most states. I sigh, leave, and take a couple of more (fast) laps around all of the movies and Wii games.I return to the restroom about four minutes and ten seconds later, and the rear stall is now open. PAYDIRT!!! The middle stall is still occupied by the same dude as before (I can tell by seeing the same shoes and pants on the floor underneath the door). I actually think to myself, “that sucks, poor guy.” After wiping the toilet seat, I sit down and take a refreshing and cleansing poo. Things are looking up in life again.I go to flush the toilet and sneer at how ugly it looks in there. It’s bad. Really bad. It is actually too gross for me to follow-through on taking a picture of it and texting it to my friend Steve.Anyway, here is where things went awry. Very. I flush the toilet. Bubble. Bubbling. Rumbling. Uh-oh. The water rises a little. Please go down. Please. The water rises a little more. Nervousness settles in. Quickly. Shit. Dammit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Stop the water. Industrial toilet. It’s not an option. WTF. Shit. Please go down. Water still rising. Not going down. Really bad. 1” to go. Fuck Fuck Fuck. Please just stop. 1/2” left. Time to think of an exit strategy. Water overflows. Well, I guess you can call it water, but it doesn’t really look like water anymore. And, I just remember about the poor guy in the middle stall. Stay calm. And get out of there. Now.“Watch your feet, dude, I’ll get somebody quick.” I said it as calm as I possibly could.I almost immediately find a Best Buy employee: “I just wanted you to know that a toilet is overflowing in the men’s restroom, and you’re going to want to get somebody in there quick.”I find my fiancée almost immediately. I walk very (very) fast towards her. “Can you get the movies? I’ll get the car.” She knows something is wrong. Very wrong. I guess I won’t argue with her buying Forgetting Sarah Marshall, then. I go to the car and circle around the parking lot for about eight minutes. I am hoping that the guy from the middle stall isn’t scouring the parking lot yet for the guy with brown hair in the black pullover and dark green vest. My fiancée walks out, she jumps in, and I speed away as fast as a 5 MPH speed limit in a parking lot permits.So, please accept my apology, the guy in the middle stall, and also the fine employees at the Best Buy #305. I sincerely apologize for any heartache, headaches, and pain I may have caused you. And for ruining your weekend. Every time I watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall with my lovely soon-to-be wife, a special cloud of guilt will hang over my head for you.Sincerely,Anonymous.