Okay, seriously: stop doing that. He doesn’t come back to any of these threads so you’re just wasting bandwidth. The internet can only support a finite number of links, you know.
I was on a toll road. Have you ever been on a toll road? When you opted not to piss in the last available toilet due to the filth, and have just driven 45 miles with crossed legs to this toilet, which is also a cesspit, and the nice sign says it is another 50 miles to the next available toilet… well, I already went elsewhere once, to no avail, and I fear that if I attempt to go elsewhere again that “elsewhere” will wind up being the front seat of my car while going 75 mph on my way to the next restroom.
I wasn’t eating there, mind you - I had a cooler in the car stocked with nutritious food upon which I subsisted the entire time. However, for some reason the local constabulary frowns upon middle-aged women pissing into a cup while having a picnic out of the trunk of their car.
Yes, I could have left the road in search of a more traditional gas station or truck stop, but it’s a toll road which means exits are often limited. In some cases the ramps are “exit only”, meaning if you leave you can’t get back on in that spot and have to follow and alternate road before getting back on. With a 510 mile trip each way, on a route I was completely unfamiliar with, it didn’t seem the time to go exploring and improvising.
The end result was that everyone on the toll road is a captive audience with few choices. Which is one of the many reasons I fucking hate toll roads.
I don’t understand how these things happen. Presumably these are public bathrooms – don’t other people come in and say “Hey, why are you pooping on the floor instead of in the toilet?” or “Sir, you’re only supposed to go number one in those things – the toilets inside the stall are for number two.”
Well, you remember that thread about whether and how one should inform a female that her bottom is showing, right? Now multiply the awkwardness by fifteen thousand.