earlier at Dulles i took a pit stop in the men’s room to take a leak.
on my way to the urinal, i happened to catch a profile glance of myself in the mirror.
i’m wearing my crumpler backpack, which is friggin huge.
i can literally carry two full size laptops, a single mini laptops, a full size SLR camera, a big lens and two small ones.
I don’t currently have all that crap in it, but it is loaded down.
to the max.
to the extreme i rock a mic like a vandal.
but i digress.
so anyway, i’ve got a fuck-ton of shit in my bag, and I pass my this mirror and i see my giant 6′2″ 245lb self with this giant fucking back pack, and i round the corner and almost run over the little guy taking a leak.
and when i say “little guy” i don’t mean child.
i mean little, tiny, dude.
not as small as “Little e” but almost.
Like, Little E’s big brother, maybe?
I excuse myself, walk around dude, skip a space and start to pee in the next unoccupied, full sized urinal, and start to chuckle.
Does E look at me like I might look at Shaquille O’Neal?
Shaqtastic, 29 points.
