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Confession of an Upper Decker
NOTE: I received the article below from an author I respect who has asked to remain nameless. I offer this for publication so that the ideas contained herein can enter public debate.
"Upper Decker"-(American slang); 1. in the game of baseball, a home run hit into the upper deck of a stadium; any baseball hit into a spectator deck that is elevated above field level.2. any spectator at a stadium event sitting in the upper deck 3. the practice of defecating in the tank of a toilet rather than the proper receptacle bowl, causing a prolonged offending odor from the unseen excreta.
-Cambridge English Dictionary
You will be happy to hear, dear reader, that I, the anonymous author, have today performed my first Upper Decker. Of course I will not be able to see the fruits of my labor, but my surprise will in some way shock and/or cause consternation among the staff at the rental car facility that earned this rare treat. I first learned of the practice of the Upper Decker a few years ago from a coworker when I worked as a law enforcement officer. My friend and colleague did not elaborate on his own exploits in the performance of the Upper Decker, but simply described it to me and promoted it as a tool of non violent yet effective vengeance on sworn adversaries and other offending parties. I agreed and even penned a short story, which I have submitted under various pseudonyms, about a young man who uses this tool to effect revenge upon those who have wronged him. It was not until today that I took the bold step to perform this myself. It is only right that I do this. After all, this is not so heinous an act that one should shun experimentation in fear of harming society – though the Upper Decker would certainly have detrimental effects on the public health should it ever become widely used – so one can indulge this temptation without fear of moral degeneration.
I found an offending party that provided me the opportunity. Traveling recently, I made a reservation to rent a car from a well-reputed car rental company. Using the modern technology of the Internet, I secured a price and made a reservation. When I arrived in my destination and went to the nearby office to rent a car, I found that the cost of the rental would be twice what I was quoted. If I did not pay this inflated price, I would not be able to rent a car. My trip from there would have difficult and perilous without an automobile, and so I was left with little choice but to pay the company’s exorbitant fees. Driving away in frustration, I pondered the possible proper, artistic and legal ways to express my rage at this company’s scurrilous business practices. (Note: I have yet to explore the legality of the Upper Decker, I presume that there are no laws that explicitly prohibit it, but that certain public health or other laws could be used to prosecute one if discovered). I decided that the Upper Decker would be a most appropriate avenue of anonymous self-expression in this circumstance.
I used the rental car for approximately one week, all the while having it in the back of my mind to exact my revenge through misplaced excreta. The day of reckoning arrived without my having decided on whether or not to follow through with it. After consuming a fine breakfast, I drove to the car rental office to return my car before my return flight home. As I came closer to where I was to leave my car, I felt a sense of adventure mount simultaneously with my offending product fermenting and solidifying in my bowels. I felt that fate was giving me a signal, that I was destined to take this important step, to prove I had the nerve and the physical capacity to take this nonviolent direct action. I mentally prepared to start a new nationwide movement (pun intended).
I followed the instructions provided by the rental car company and pulled into the office parking lot in a conveniently located covered space designated for returned rentals. A polite and well-dressed young man came out with a hand held device to check my car back in. He checked the mileage and looked over the car a bit before asking me if I wanted to keep all the charges on my previously presented credit card and I answered in the affirmative. Then I made an innocent inquiry as I took my luggage from the trunk.
"Is there a restroom I can use?" I asked in a casual manner.
"Yes. On you left as you go in that door," said the polite, well-dressed rental car agent.
I finished stacking my luggage by the area where the shuttle bus would soon return to take me to the airport. I didn’t know how much time I would have left but my bowels felt that I could evacuate them quickly. My concern was evacuating them neatly and secretly. I entered the door as indicated by the employee and found the Men’s room on my left. As I went to enter, an employee exited. I feared that perhaps this was not a single use restroom but a large public restroom which would make my effort to perform the Upper Decker difficult to conceal if someone else were to come in and see me perched a top the toilet and impossible to perform if the toilets inside did not have tanks. My fears were quickly assuaged, as I discovered that it indeed was a single user restroom with a standard toilet with a tank.
I locked the door behind me and took off my hat and coat. As I did not see any hook to hang them on, I set them down on the floor a safe distance from the toilet. My mind raced with excitement. I was very nervous and afraid that someone might discover me in the midst of my deed. I set the seat and lid of the toilet down and very carefully lifted off the top of the porcelain toilet tank and set it ever so gently on the floor. The porcelain lid made ever so slight a scraping sound as it put it on the tile floor.
The moment of truth was at hand. I rapidly unfastened my clothing and gingerly stepped up upon the toilet seat lid. I sat upon the open tank and was strained to get into a position that would ensure I did not wet myself. Once confident that I would direct all of my wastes directly into the tank, I was able to move my bowels in a smooth and rapid fashion. I was amazed at how well my body answered the call of justice through this covert political activity. With passing what felt like a moderately voluminous contribution, I descended my throne of protest and turned to examine my contribution to justice.
My movement for the movement appeared fibrous and healthy, having come from the well-oiled machine that is my body. My product was multi-piece, but with a very large anchor segment that made up the majority of the nonviolent political statement. It sat suspended in the still water, a tribute to truth, justice, my personal vitality and the triumph of the human spirit.
I replaced the tank lid very carefully and lifted to seat to finish my business as if I had not just performed an Upper Decker. Once finished, I noticed that I had left a footprint on the toilet lid. I used a paper towel to clean the lid and left it up to make the bathroom look more realistic. I washed my hands, which were already very clean.
I put on my coat and hat back on and left the bathroom to wait for the airport shuttle bus outside, aglow with confident satisfaction that I took a stand, or precarious squat, for justice.