King Dump
If this doesn’t count as an urban myth, I don’t know what does. I went to NYC last year for a mate’s 30th birthday, whose name we'll say is Simon (as it is). Anyway we are out the day after his birthday taking in the sights and we decide to do an evening run of the Empire State building. So it’s about midnight and the five of us are up the top taking in the view, when Si comes over and says, “where’s the toilet?” I give him rough directions and think nothing more of it. He comes back about five minutes later, saying the bogs are out of order, do you mind if we make a move. I gather up the troops after another ten minutes or so and we head back down. If you have been in those elevators, you’ll know their quick and gravity defying. We go down ten floors; out he goes looking for a bog, but no luck, then its eighty floors at breakneck speed. On reaching the bottom floor, he sprints for the nearest bar (the one at the Empire State entrance). As I enter the bar, imagine the scene I am greeted by. Si is behind the bar of this pub (the bit where the bar lifts up), the barman is asking him what he is doing and he is going “I have fucking shat myself”. I look down and between his legs is a cowpat size pile of shit, he is shouting what am I going to do, our response is run. Off he hobbles, holding his ass cheeks as he does a runner to our hotel, supported by his missus. Fuck me, I couldn’t run if I tried, all I could do was roll around in hysterics, while this barman shook his fist at us. Back home, everyone knew within hours, humiliated, only chance is if someone shits themselves in a more well known building. Fat fucking chance!!!!
(heimihenderson2005, Tue 10 Jan 2006, 11:16, Reply)