I had to take a piss, and soon, or I probably wouldn't have thought to stop at the hospital to make use of their public facilities. I had been trying to get out on a day labor job, but traffic was slow and those who were looking for manual labor chose to take the illegal immigrants because they figured they could get away with paying them lower wages.
I walked away deciding that I'd try the new Employment Office that had been opened at one of the nearby homeless shelters for the purpose of hiring out day labor jobs that came in. Those jobs were rumored to be good paying and verified to not stiff you at the end of the day. I had avoided it because it took me one step closer to homelessness, something I was busting my ass off to avoid. After a series of bad relationships eventually found me on the streets, I got a room at a cheap hotel downtown and worked like a dog to keep it.
Entering at a side door of the hospital, I was relieved to see a bathroom sign just at the edge of a small waiting room that was empty of patients or personnel. I pushed my way into the small, quiet room and sidled up to the only urinal, which was located next to the only stall. The sink, topped with a clean mirror, was to my back. That's how small the room was.
As I stood at the urinal, someone else entered the bathroom. I looked in his direction and gave him a quick apologetic smile. He was a young Latino, somewhere in his twenties, with perfectly styled hair, large puppy dog brown eyes and bee stung cupid's bow lips. He was thin, but not particularly skinny, and well dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks. His dress shoes were well-polished and shiny.
In comparison, I was wearing faded jeans and a nearly clean white t-shirt that didn't smell particularly dirty when I picked up off the floor that morning. My work boots had seen better days, but they were broken in and comfortable, and I planned on wearing them until they fell apart.
