The Case Of Der Vet Tow-vul

Check out this little anecdote ripped from pages of the series of the Annals of Inconsiderate People.

A couple of months ago I go to the YMCA for a swim, just like I've done hundreds of times over and again throughout the past five years. I put on my bathing suit, put my clothes in a locker, take my towel and head towards the pool. Again, just like I've done every time.

I hang my towel on the hook by the showers. The far right hook; the same hook I always use. I'm a creature of habit. The far right hook is so far away that it practically ensures nobody will mistake my towel for theirs and leave me wet and naked. Once upon a time when I first started swimming at the YMCA, I put my towel on one of the middle hooks. One day I came back into the shower area and noticed my towel was missing and another towel of similar color but considerably lesser quality was hanging a few hooks over.

That won't happen again.

So anyhoo, I walk into the shower on the far left side. Again, creature of habit - it's the same exact shower I always use. I wash my body before going into the pool because there's a sign that says we should shower before going into the pool. I'm a law abiding citizen, even when it comes to the fairly flexible not-quite-laws at the less-than official YMCA.

As always, I leave my towel on the hook in the security of the locker room and go out to the pool for my swim. As we discussed, it was the far right hook.

I have a good swim, as swims go. I didn't drown. And I suppose that's good.

I finish my swim and head back into the locker room. It's cold, I'm wet - I want my towel. I turn the corner and reach for my towel on the far right hook. The same hook on which I had securely placed it not 45 minutes previously. The same hook I'd been hanging my towel for the better part of four years.

You can probably imagine my surprise and dismay when my hand came up empty, aimlessly grasping for air. There was no towel on the hook. More specifically, there was no MY towel on the far right hook.

Son-of-a-BITCH! I scream out loud. Somebody stole my towel! SOMEBODY STOLE MY TOWEL!!

I'm angry. I'm pissed. I'm also cold and wet and could sure use a towel to dry me off.

Instinctively, I turn towards the shower. Somethings different. Somethings wrong. In a fraction of a second, my mind scans the entire shower area to figure out what looks different than it did 45 minutes ago.

The ground. I look on the ground in front of the shower. A bath mat was laying on the floor. There was no bath mat before. I've showered in this shower for 4 years, there has never been a bath mat. Why is there a bath mat? Oh wait, that's not a bath mat....that's a towel. That's MY towel!!! My nice clean towel is laying on the shower floor!

MY TOWEL IS LAYING ON THE SHOWER FLOOR!

What the.....This is BULLSHIT! I scream even louder.

Some inconsiderate fool decided he wanted a bath mat to dry his feet so when he finished the shower he grabbed my towel and threw it down on the wet, dirty, disgusting floor of the men's locker room in the YMCA. Then he, undoubtedly, rubbed his grimy feet all over it.

I'm gonna be sick.

I picked up my towel.

I looked up to see a large, 70-something year old Russian fellow standing in front of me, his overly bloated, hairy stomach practically hiding his swim suit under it's numerous folds of skin.

Ees dat yer towvul? he asked me.

Yes, I said in true anger. Ready to fight. I'm cold, I'm angry. Welcome to the new Cold War, bitch. Yes, dat ees my towvul! It ees! Did you do this to my towvul?!

No, no., he replied quickly, sensing my anger. But eet happen to me tvice so far too. I keep my towvul in locker now.

Harumph. What a perfect time for a harumph. The Russian squished his way out of the room towards his locker and, no doubt, his nice clean towvul to dry himself. As for me, I picked up my damp bath mat of a disgraced towel and hung it on the hook. Expletives were flying out of my mouth like it was a profanity convention and I was the keynote speaker.

I took a shower, cleaned the chlorine off of my body then went over to the sink and dried myself off with paper towel. I dried myself off with anger.

Now I don't let my towel out of my line of vision. The far right hook is no longer my towels habitual home. From now on, it never leaves my sight.

It's a warzone out there and if you don't be careful, next time you turn your back you may end up as the next bath mat.