Bathroom Issues

I have weird bathroom/privacy issues, too many to list. The one you need to know for this story, or maybe you don't and I just want to share, is that I always use stalls. Always. I think growing up I felt that using a urinal was something that had to be taught to me, like shaving and tying my shoes. It was never taught to me. I started off using stalls and, well, never looked back. This has lead to many awkward situations but...okay, that's getting into the other bathroom issues.

Anyway.

You all know I work at a place where comics runneth like water. They're everywhere. They're all over my desk, on conference tables, stacks all over the place. It's pretty awesome. So last Friday I was in the bathroom, which is usually home to a recent-ish issue of ToyFare or Anime Insider, doing a number one. Peeing. Yeah, I think number one is the universal phrase for that, right? Anyway. I'm peeing and I see that, in the trash bin next to the toilet, floating somewhat at the top over kleenexes, toilet paper, bathroom stuff, is a comic book. I've never seen an actual comic book in the bathroom. It's face down so I can see the back ad, which is an anti-smoking one. I notice, while peeing, that there is a little Twin Towers emblem with a red, white and blue ribbon around it. I instantly recognize this as the emblem that was on all of Marvel's comic books for the six months or so after September 11th. So I've identified the comic, while peeing, as a Marvel comic from late 2001. I then play a game in my head to see if I can guess which title it is. I think Avengers, or Uncanny X-Men until settling on Amazing Spider-Man. I figure I'll turn it over and check it out, before washing my hands. So, after peeing and zipping up, I gently pick the comic book out of the trashcan between my index finger and thumb.

It's an issue of Amazing Spider-Man all right.

It's #36.

The September 11th issue.


The newstand variant that is worth, I kid you not, $80 mint condition. It's also the only issue of JMS and John Romita Jr.'s run on Amazing Spider-Man that I don't have...because it's worth $80.

After freaking out for a second that someone not only took the September 11th issue (you know, the one where Spidey goes to Ground Zero just after the events and helps dig people out of the rubble) to read on the crapper, but they threw it away afterwards...I was faced with a big dilemma.

Do I really need this issue enough to take it, in it's far below average condition, out of the bathroom stall's trash can, into my hands, and into my home? I decided no, I did not, and put it in the larger trash can next to the sink. I sorta regretted it but, honestly, I didn't want to relate this story and then have people freak out when I took it. So yeah, I wanted it but was more worried about what people would think. Then I related these events to my teammates during a stretch-and-share exercise in practice on Sunday and they all flipped out that I didn't take it. So yeah, apparently taking the germ-infested $80 comic from the bathroom actually is the right thing to do.

Knowing that we get the trash taken out like, once a week, I went back on Monday and there it was...still in the big trashcan with a couple paper towels over it. I grabbed it, immediately bagged and boarded it, and brought it home. I've gone through the issue looking for...unsightly stains...and I found none. So, that's good. The issue's not in great shape, I could probably resell it for maybe...maybe $3-$5, but I now have the complete JMS/JRJR run.

And whoever this mystery co-worker is, this week they left the recently published guide to Ed Brubaker's Daredevil in the same trashcan in the stall. I passed that one over. I mean, if I'm going to dig a comic out of the trash, it has to be worth at least $25.