Poo Poo Poo Poo...

Since Byron is in Cleveland for a few days on business, Nate and I are on our own for dinner.  While this typically involves making Nate's favourite Daddy-Is-Away meal of spaghetti and sprinkle cheese, last night, Nate decided he wanted Burger King.  Since I enjoy a nummy have-it-my-way Whopper every now and again, I obliged.


Off we went to our local Burger King, which is attached to a gas station (so you know it's classy).  There weren't very many people in the restaurant area - a single person sitting off to the side and then a family of three sitting near the play area.  Balancing our tray of freshly-made meaty goodness, Nate and I headed over to the enclosed play area, walking past the family of three.  As I approached their table, I noticed something on the floor.  It looked like mud... but then I smelled it.


Sitting right there on the floor, no more than three feet away from this family's table, was a big schmear of dog poo.


Yes, you read that right.  DOG.  POO.


And not non-smelly dog poo, either.  I deked around it, but I could definitely smell it, and so could Nate.  I wondered, how could this family sit there?  Surely, they would alert the staff.  It's dog poo... someone will take care of it, right?  RIGHT?!


Sitting in the play area, I was able to observe the dog poo and other patrons' reactions to it (or lack thereof) from a safe, non-stinky distance.  While Nate played in the hamster maze structure, I watched as a couple of men sat down adjacent to the dog poo.  No reaction.  Then the family of three departed, stepping over or around the poo schmear several times (I caught my breath a few times when it looked like the daughter might step right in it... the suspense!).  No reaction.  A family of FIVE then arrived and sat at the table right next to the poo.  They clearly noted the presence of the dog poo on the floor, BUT SAT THERE ANYWAY.  Several times, the dad went up to the counter but it was apparently not because of the poo, because no one came out to clean it up.  One of the kids went up to ask for some towels.  I was hopeful... but he just used them to wipe off the table  At one point, someone from the staff actually went over the family-of-five's table, spoke with them, and then returned to her post.  In order to accomplish this, she had to step over the poo TWICE.  


In other words, despite the clear presence of stinky dog poo on the floor, no one seemed fazed by it.  I started to question just how gungy the Burger King must normally be that no one was bothered by the fact that there was actual feces on the floor.  I wondered whether I was being Punk'd, or whether they were filming one of those episodes of Dateline NBC where they present some really abnormal or abhorrent situation, then show how apathetic people are to it.  I mean, it's DOG POO.  On the floor of a RESTAURANT.  Where they serve FOOD.  And no one - staff, customers - seemed to care.  What alternate universe had we stumbled into?


Eventually, Nate finished playing and we headed for the exit.  But I stopped.  Maybe I wasn't being punk'd.  Maybe Dateline NBC wasn't filming.  Maybe the staff just didn't know.  I approached the counter and the girl who had taken our order asked how she could help me.  Awkwardly, I told her that there was some, um, stuff on the floor over by the play area, which I thought might be dog poo.  


She stared at me.


"Dog poo?" she asked.


"Yes," I replied.  "Dog poo.  It looks like dog poo, and it smells like dog poo, and it's been there a while so I'm really just surprised that no one has mentioned it yet."


"But we don't allow dogs in the restaurant."


And this was when I realized how it had come to pass that a schmear of dog poo, which had existed on the floor for an undetermined period of time before my arrival and had existed for an hour since my arrival, had remained on the floor for as long as it had.  It was just completely beyond the realm of reason to everyone who encountered it that it was actually dog poo.  After all, this is a restaurant which doesn't allow dogs in the facility.  Surely, there would not be dog poo on the floor in such an establishment.


But at the end of the day, if it looks like dog poo and smells like dog poo, whether it is supposed to be there or not, it's probably dog poo.  And someone - preferably someone on the staff - should clean it the f&$# up.  


As Nate and I got into the car, I looked back into the Burger King.  The area by the dog poo was vacant.  No one had approached... it was not being cleaned up, and it appeared that the girl I'd told about it had just gone back about her business behind the counter.  


I wondered if I'd imagined the whole thing... whether I'd truly wandered into another dimension... A dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity... the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, which lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge.  A smelly, yet tasty, dimension of flame-broiled imagination.  An area which we call...


The Dog Poo Zone.