Wild Detour

There is a certain restroom, in a certain hotel of a certain city, that is known to be a cruising spot, and I just happened to find myself there on my 21st birthday.

I discovered it by happenstance.

When I walked into the restroom, at 1 a.m. after a night of drinking, I didn't find it odd when I heard a shuffling of feet as I walked in.

I also didn't find it odd when I saw two guys, young, like me, making small talk in front of the sinks, or when they both turned to look at me and scanned me from head to toe, or even afterwards when I went into the last stall for extra privacy and then heard the lightest of foot taps in the stall next to mine.

I was too drunk to find these things odd.

When I went to wash my hands, the guys scanned me again, but I brushed it off, and then they left ahead of me.

One had red basketball shorts, and the other blue jeans, and they both turned back to look at me as they walked away.

I was tired because I had been walking around for hours, hopping from bar to bar hoping to get lucky, so I decided to rest on a bench about thirty feet away from the restroom entrance.

I was alone now, but not for long.

Another man, older, came walking down the hall. He hadn't seen me yet, but I could see him, and he must've thought he was alone because for a long moment he stopped in front of the restroom, and I thought he was simply trying to decide whether he needed to take a piss or not, and he was about to go in, but he decided to look around, to scan the area first, and that's when he spotted me.

He did a double-take because I was staring at him intently, and he was probably wondering where I had come from, and, looking worried, he started walking away.

He moved fast, almost like running away, but then he stopped abruptly and turned around, his expression different, one of curiosity now, and he stared at me so hard I had to break the eye contact because I was wondering why the hell he was now staring at me.

He left as soon as I looked away.

For the first time that night, I thought, "that's odd," maybe because I was starting to sober up, or maybe because the guy was super obvious. I looked again just as he was turning the corner, and I thought he was finally gone, but I swear to God, he peeked his head out from around the corner to look back at me.

"Okay, fuck, that's weird," I remember thinking.

Freaked out, I looked away in the other direction, and I was about to walk away, but I stopped when I saw the guy in red basketball shorts coming back.

Why was he coming back?

Odd.

He slowed down as he passed me by, and we made eye contact, and then he very noticeably grabbed at his crotch and he rubbed the length of his girth, and my eyes widened and my mouth fell, and worried, he hurried into the restroom without looking back.

I instantly sobered up.

I could see clearly now, but maybe not in a completely sober way, perhaps more sexual.

The past ten minutes came rushing back and this time I noticed all the signs, and becoming aware of all those signs took me further back to when I had first heard of this thing called "cruising."

It was a friend named Adan who had told me about it once, when we went to the restroom together and he kept putting his foot under my stall.

"What are you doing?" I kept asking, and he kept laughing.

It was later that he told me.

"You really don't know what that means?" he asked.

I confirmed that I didn't.

"When someone puts their foot into your stall, it's a sign that they want to mess around," he explained.

"Oh, shit, is that true?"

"I mean, I've never done it, that's some gay shit," he told me, "but my cousin's gay and knows all about that stuff. He's the one that told me."

He told me his cousin knew of and frequented spots down by the trails, spots in certain parks, spots in certain public restrooms, and spots on and on here, there, and everywhere, if only you knew what to look for.

It was clear now that this was such a spot.

I perked up on the bench. I looked at my watch. 1:20 a.m.

I looked around. I was alone again and I could hear my heart racing.

I heard a door open from behind me. It was a service door, and a uniformed worker from the hotel came out.

We made eye contact and I looked away because now I knew what my eye contact could mean, and I was unsure, and I was afraid, but, deep in my core, I was intrigued, so I stayed put even though I looked away.

He walked right past me and stepped into the restroom.

Adan had told me his cousin had also told him about this.

"If you're hanging around the spot with no reason to really be there, guys will know what you're there for, and if you make eye contact and reach an understanding, whether it be with a smile, a nod, or just a knowing glance, then just follow him into the restroom. If you do, it means you're interested."

I didn't go in.

I wasn't yet ready to face what I would encounter if I did, not after what I now knew, but I also didn't leave the area.

I was curious now.

I looked at my watch again.

1:30 a.m.

The hotel worker finally walked out faster than he had come in and without looking at me at all this time.

I waited to see if anyone else would come in or out, but no one did, and I knew the guy in red shorts was still in there.

1:35 a.m.

I finally went in.

I heard a shuffling of feet, and then it was quiet again.

I looked over to the urinals. No one.

I looked over to the long row of stalls lined against opposing walls. I could see underneath the first few stalls, but I saw no feet, and beyond those, I couldn't tell.

I went over to the urinals, unzipped my pants, took my cock out, and peed a bit.

I finished, but I still stood there, cock in hand, and I was about to put it away when a man walked in and stood in the urinal right next to mine.

He looked at me, and I forced myself to look at him.

He nodded, and I automatically nodded back because that's what you do, and my heart began to race because of what it meant.

He began to pee and it was a loud, strong stream, and you could tell it came from a huge pipe and I just stood there trying not to look.

As his stream of piss slowed and weakened, another man came into the restroom and stood on the opposite side of this man and also began to piss.

"I'm about to make this really uncomfortable," the first man started, "but would you guys happen to have a cigarette? I'm dying for a cigarette."

He looked at the other man first and the other man shook his head. Then he looked at me, and I also told him no because I really didn't have one, or so I thought because it was much later that I realized what he truly meant.

"Damn, it's a shame," he said, "I figured since we're all here with our cocks in our hands, why not ask, you know?"

"Yeah," I said awkwardly.

While this man was talking to me, the other man proceeded to take off in a hurry without washing his hands.

Feeling awkward, I put my cock away and went to wash my hands.

"Well, have a good night. I'm off to see if I can find a cigarette," said the man, and then he walked out of the restroom.

I was alone again. I looked at myself in the mirror and I was ready to walk out, but then curiosity got the best of me and led me to the stalls.