A local man in the middle of an early morning six-mile run has an audacious plan to get himself into a "for customers only" restroom, he told his runner partner.
"I'm gonna walk right through the front door," said Daniel Ocean, grinning. "It's the one move they won't be expecting."
Even when he began the run, Ocean, 36, said he had to pee a little, even though he'd gone just before leaving his house. By mile 2, he said, he "definitely" had to go. Over the next mile, the feeling became urgent.
"I don't find a place to pee soon," he told his friend, Frank Catton, "I'm going to explode."
The problem, as Catton pointed out, was the setting—at this point in their run, the two were in the downtown business district, and opportunities for relief were few.
"No trees or bushes to speak of," Catton said, and "most shops and stuff were closed (due to the early hour)."
Catton was happy to spot a Starbucks a block away, until he remembered that neither men had any money and that this location had a "for customers only" restroom policy.
Ocean was not deterred.
"I've got a plan," he told Catton.
"Starbucks has trained staff, signs, security cameras, the whole nine yards," he said—but the one thing they aren't equipped to handle is a flagrant disregard for the rules.
"I walk in—all smiles, like I belong there—stroll to the back, enter the restroom, do what I need to do, and walk right back out," he said. "By the time they realize what happened, we'll be a mile down the road."
"And no one gets hurt."
At last report, Catton had agreed to act as a lookout and Ocean was waiting near the entrance to follow an actual customer into the store.
"If we pull this off," Ocean told Catton, "it'll be the heist of the century."
"Or something like that," he added, dancing from foot to foot. "Man, I really need to pee."