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Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Special Guest Post

Since I've been busy with my new pooch, and figured you don't want to hear any more about how he's crapping all over the kitchen, I asked Dirty Dave to write up this phenomenal true "human poop" story, which happened last week in Vegas.

***

Let me start out by saying I was honored when Kid Dynamite asked to me to post this little tale from the Vegas Winter Assault 2006. As one of the assailants, I will try to bring you right into the fold, and hopefully leave you with a suggestion for your next trip. Away we go...

We pick up the action at 12 noon PDT on January 14th, a day better known as "Six Sigma Sunday". While KD was embarking on his fateful collision course with the deep-stacked Tunisian Playboys in the 2-5 NL game, Steve, Craig and I had planned to enjoy an afternoon of metro sexuality at Truefitt and Hill. For those not familiar with T&F, they are a purveyor of fine men's grooming services, literally fit for a Royal, as their early days can be traced back to Jolly Old England at the turn of the 19th century. It is an intimately designed barber shop, located in an inconspicuous corner of the Forum Shoppe’s at Caesars. From the moment you step inside, you are transported to 2 Cross Lane circa 1825, from the detailed mahogany molding in the foyer to the rich medicinal balms emanating from the barbers' stations just behind the waiting area. Just behind the vintage barber chairs sits a manicurists' station, which is the last section of T&F. In all, the entire facility is no more than 15 yards in length, making a low whisper the only possible form of communication should one desire any sort of discretion.

Seeming that Truefitt and Hill's typical clientele consists mainly of corporate chieftains, members of parliament and other various magistrates; you can imagine the look on the Maitre D's face when us three sleep-deprived scoundrels sauntered up to the counter for our noontime appointment. Nonetheless, this was Las Vegas where every Spike TV watching sweathog can purchase the aristocrat treatment, so he was more than courteous during the initial greeting. To be precise, he was an African American gentleman in his late 40's- he wore an immaculate Zegna suit, and sported a set of finely clipped and buffed fingernails that likely were the result of an hour spent with the 20 something manicurist in the rear of the store.

The Maitre D explained that they were running a touch behind schedule, and only Big Show would be able to get his hot lather shave immediately. Rather than let our annoyance fester, he placated Craig and I by offering complementary bottled water and a manicure to boot! Craig accepted the offer right away, leaving me alone in the foyer.

I had some time to kill, and seeming my stomach was losing it's battle with the Caribe Cafe's version of chicken fried steak (covered in gravy so thick, you could eat it with chopsticks), I had a golden opportunity to empty my system before my have.

I figured the place was too small to have a restroom, but once the Maitre D caught me looking around with that furled "Is there a bathroom around here" face, he motioned to a small door located right behind the manicurist's shoulder. I entered the tiny room, locked the balsa wood door and began going about my business. It felt awkward, engaging in such a private act only feet away from the young manicurist, Craig, and the rest of the shop. In fact, only the low hum of classical music prevented my entire movement from being audible to the entire T&F staff.
Somehow, my mind must have been on the Steelers game that I had deserted in the 3rd quarter, because I failed to realize just how much bathroom tissue I was going through. So when it came time to zip up and flush, I was stunned to see the level of the toilet water going not lower, but higher...much higher....and fast...towards the brim of the bowl!

The foul flood halted just before reaching overflow, but the situation was still critical with the water's meniscus nearing the edge of the bowl. My breathing shortened as I immediately began rummaging through their small bathroom cabinet looking for some kind of implement with which I could unclog the toilet. To little avail, all I found were excess men's beauty supplies. I figured my best course of action was to get the heck out of there, and alert the Maitre D who might know what to do.

I calmly opened the door, and casually looked over at Craig and the manicurist who were both staring back at me as if to say, "Where have you been for the past 25 minutes???" Without offering a word of explanation to them, I calmly walked right to the Maitre D's counter and subtly motioned for his attention.

"Something wrong sir?” he inquired.

By now there were other customers waiting right behind me in the foyer, raising the stress level of my situation to life-scarring levels. I was not about to speak of the toilet crisis out loud, so I leaned way over the counter and beckoned the Maitre D even closer with my right hand. He would move an inch towards me, I would motion him closer, he would move another inch and I'd repeat, as if to say,

"clooossser, cloooooossssser, come cloooooooooooooossssssssser..."

With his head cocked and his right ear within three inches of my mouth, I softly uttered the words,

"Do. you. have. a. plunger?"

He slowly recoiled, and while clasping both hands together he nodded once and grinned,

"Not a problem Sir, we've got you covered"

Then he shattered the silence in the parlor with two thunderous claps in quick succession,

"Ro-Bért!” he summoned.

Suddenly a young man in his 20's with a neatly trimmed beard and fine black on black suit emerged from a chair beside the barbers. Until now, I had no idea this man was even in the room with us, but now on center stage he had the attention of the entire facility.

The Maitre D whispered briefly to Robért, and within a three-count he was soldiering off to the Caesars janitorial closet, from which he returned with the magical plumbing tool. By the time he headed back to eliminate the blockage, I has long assimilated back into the foyer scene, totally distanced from the crisis in the rear.

Within 5 minutes, I was called to the barbers' chair where I spend the next hour getting my face turned into a steaming, supple and smooth piece of eucalyptus what with the various towel treatments, multiple gel lathers and two-coat straight edge razor job that the Barber administered with the dexterity of a brain surgeon. I swear I left that place with cheeks as soft as the ones I showed up with on Day One of junior high.

Please take the preceding anecdote as my strongest positive testimonial to the Truefitt and Hill experience. I would encourage any man heading to Las Vegas to call ahead and book an appointment on a Saturday afternoon as a perfect way to set the table before a night out on the town. The 90 minutes of pure grooming Nirvana is real throwback to a time before multitasking, a time when a barbershop visit was more than a nuisance on your To Do list- It was a trip to the doctor, the church and the therapist rolled into one. And fear not if your stomach betrays you at the moment of truth- the good people at Truefitt and Hill have got you covered.

Sincerely,
Dirty Dave

7 comments:

Huge Junk said...

I would have suffered thru not going at all once I saw how close the bathroom was to the action. As my stomach rumbled loudly and my face contorted repeatedly, the barber would ask if everything was ok and I would then make up the name of some disease that causes stomach discomfort.

I commend you for your PPP, public pooping prowess.

Anonymous said...

A little part of this blog died today.

-the manicurist

Kid Dynamite said...

you can't beat a good poop story!
i thought Dirty Dave writing about destroying Truefitt & Hill was better than me writing about Oscar pooping on the kitchen floor..

what died???

Anonymous said...

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Truefitt & Hill Staff said...

We read your article about your experience at our Truefitt and Hill Shop in Las Vegas. We have to tell you that reading your hilarious story made our day! We appreciate all your kind words about our shop and thank you for the humorous twist! We hope to see you again soon!

Our take on it…

3 Plane Tickets to Las Vegas…
$420.00
Taxi Drive from McCarran to Caesars Palace …
$25.00
3 Hot Lather Shaves At Truefitt & Hill…
$195.00
Meeting the “needs” of our customers... PRICELESS!

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