Prestige & Responsibility

It came to pass that I needed a toilet plunger, for what I suppose is the usual disgusting reason for needing a toilet plunger. I didn't have one, so before leaving for work I made a couple of unsuccessful toilet-plunger-less attempts to clear the blockage, and then I abandonned the task and went to work, because I'm a responsible person who is on time for work, no matter what is wrong with my toilet.

During the moments at work when I wasn't being responsible for an airplane, my mind every so often returned to that other less pretigious responsibility, lurking in my bathroom. The hardware stores would be closed by the time I got home, but there was one not too far from the airport in a small town along the way. I arrived at that hardware store at 5:28 pm and the sign on the door said they were open to 5:30. But the door was locked, and a much larger sign on the door said "CLOSED."

The proprietor heard the door rattle and opened it to confirm that the store was closed. "Everything's closed. The till's closed. What do you need?"

"A toilet plunger," I confessed, conveying a bit of the pathos that accompanies the situation that calls for one. "Is there anywhere else I could get one?"

He recognized me. "You're the pilot aren't you? You made a big impression on my daughter. Come on in, because every pilot needs a toilet plunger." A handful of loonies later, I had a new possession.

I think that's the first time the prestige of being a pilot won me any favours. And yes, the toilet works fine now.

And this utterly unrelated seagull picture is cuuuute.