Watch What You Say When You’re Talkin in the Boys Room


A couple of weeks back an old landman buddy of mine reached out and said he was going to be in town sometime in the next couple of weeks. He wanted to get together for brunch…I thought that was odd, since we’re not necessarily the brunch types. Regardless, he had something he wanted to talk to me about so I agreed to meet him.

We met at 10:30 this morning and had a couple of beers catching up. After we got the usual bullshit out of the way and moved on to what he wanted to talk to me about, a few more beers and we were back to bullshitting again. That’s when he told me an entertaining story about a mishap in the boys room at a wedding a few months back…

“So do you know this guy, __________?” (redacted because I don’t remember the name)

“No, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Ok, well anyways, he and his wife had a wedding shower for a friend of ours at their house awhile back. And he’s a war collector…”

“A war…what?”

“A collector of old war memorabilia. Anyways, he has this huge collection on display at his giant mansion of a house. So we are walking through checking everything out, and I get to this Nazi knife. So I have to ask…’hey, what’s the story behind this knife?’

The guy replies, ‘oh that was a gift from a friend of mine so I put it on display because they would notice if it wasn’t out in the collection.’ Yeah ok, whatever. I’m not judging.”


My buddy continued, “so a few weeks later at the wedding, this guy is sitting at our table. First off, I was hammered. Like, shitfaced. So I started talking up the art collection that an artist friend of mine had created, and was thinking I could get a commission on something…I showed him a few pieces and he seemed really interested.

So then I headed off to the boys room, stopping to talk to a few people on the way. While I was taking a piss I was talking to a buddy of mine standing at the urinal next to me. I was kind of swaying a bit from being hammered, laughing to myself about selling a painting at a wedding.

“Hey man, remember that Nazi guy who had the party a few weeks ago? I think I’m going to sell him a painting…” then I heard a toilet flush from one of the stalls, and as I watched in the mirror above the urinals directly in front of me, sure enough…that guy walks out. Dead silence. He washes his hands and walks out.

My buddy at the urinal next to me died laughing (and probably pissed all over himself he was laughing so hard) as he said ‘HAHAHAHA…yeah good luck with that sale man!’ He slapped me on the shoulder and walked out of the boys room.

I looked over at my buddy and between laughs said, “holy shit, what did you do next?!”

He chuckled and replied, “I did the only thing you can in that situation…I went and sat down at another table and avoided the guy for the rest of the night. I mean…I called the guy a fucking Nazi. Can’t come back from that.”