Inspired by the “ever shit your pants?” thread… how about things that happened in the public restroom that were either embarrassing or uncomfortable?
I was driving from Augusta to Atlanta in a rental car heading to the airport to fly home. It became extremely necessary to pull over at the rest area. Now for me to use a rest area to back one out, its gotta be quite the emergency. When it comes to number 2, there’s no place like home. So I was desperate to say the least.
I was pleased to see that there was a brand new building with a sign boasting “modern facilities.” I’m thinking this is great, its probably relatively clean and insect free.
Well it was clean alright, and there weren’t any flies buzzing around. But the commode was made of stainless steel, the kind you would expect to see in prisons; with the seat molded to the lip of the bowl in one solid piece. I’m not a prude or anything, I’ve been known to use the ol’ wooden seat out-house before. But the day in question it was about 40 degrees F and that seat was looking mighty chilly.
But, as I said, desperation had set in so I plopped down and gritted my teeth. Very cold. Frickin’ freezing actually. It took me about 4 minutes to finally stop the shivers. I hadn’t even been conscious of the fact that I had already begun my bowel movement… I was only aware of the extremely cold stinging sensation on my ass cheeks.
So I finally stopped shivering and shaking and was able to relax. This meant the natural leaning forward resting of ones elbows on the knees and ride it out mode was in order. I had just set my elbow down when I heard a “click” from behind me.
You know the feeling you get when you hear someone flush the toilet while you’re in the shower? You’re aware that its a signal of impending torture and you freeze up in a brief moment of panic; knowing you should be doing something to avoid it but you are incapable of any planning whatsoever in the moment. Well that was my situation when the clicking sound that meant the “electronic eye” that had been installed to qualify this restroom as a “modern facility” assumed I had gotten up and automatically flushed 32.9 degree water that quite vigorously swirled up and around the entire seat-bowl apparatus that, as i mentioned earlier, was made entirely of stainless steel. The temperature of the seat (that had been an ass-numbing 40 degrees and was slowly warmed from what was left of my body heat) instantly dropped to a ball-blueing 33 degrees. I literally screamed at the top of my lungs in absolute terror. I was sure I was going to be frozen to that medievil torture device disquised as a toilet permanently.
No one happened to be in there at the time, but when I left there were two ladies standing outside the building that must still be wondering what the hell I was screaming about.
I remember using the locker room at the local pool. Mothers would bring their 6-year-old and younger boys into the locker room. They would always peek under the stall doors, just as i had pulled my one-piece down to use the toilet. There I am, in the nude, about to pee, and a little kid is staring at me from practically the floor. Ick. It always seemed that the little girls were never the ones to peek under the stalls, just the boys. Not that I would have liked it any better if a little girl had seen me naked.
There have been times when I’ve gone into the bathroom at work,opened the door to a stall and discovered a toilet full of:
Vomit
Urine
Feces
A used tampon
And don’t get me started on women who hover over the toilet,pee all over the seat and leave it there. If you’re that frickin paranoid there are paper covers available. Put down a thick layer and sit the fuck down! Or lift the lid and go but DON’T PEE ON THE SEAT.
My most recent (in a long history) uncomfortable bathroom experience was here at work. The closest bathroom is a single-stall one. Its only ventilation is the little bit of air that manages to whoosh in when the door is opened and shut. So anyway, I walked in this morning to an unimaginable cloud of ass-funk. You know the kind. I hurried through my business, breathing through my shirt the entire time, and fled. As I was leaving, another woman walked and I I know she thought it was me who created the stink. I absolutely hate that.
We need to develop some kind of a code that will absolve us of responsibility for smells we didn’t create.
This is actually a great segue into one of my more uncomfortable restroom experiences, which I believe I have mentioned here before. My big boss (boss’s boss) became annoyed at women who did this in the bathroom. First she posted a flyer in each stall screaming about how we need to clean up after ourselves. This got our attention and we quickly figured out who it was. (Coincidentally, it was the one person in the office who got along with her and did her bidding; perhaps her obliviousness in relation to this sign was subconscious payback.) She didn’t, though, so her next move was to pay attention to who went in, follow them into the bathroom and then inspect their stall immediately afterward. Employee morale had nowhere to go but up.
It’s not always the lack of flushing that is a problem. I used to work at Wal-Mart, and had to use the bathroom desperately one day. There was only one stall open in the public restroom at the front of the store. I pushed the door open and was on my way to turning around when I noticed that someone’s ass had exploded all over the wall. Not just on the wall, but on the toilet, the handle, the toilet paper dispenser, the floor… <blech>
My relatively embarrassing bathroom story comes to me courtesy of my 7 year old nephew. We went to a restaurant one night, when my then 4 year old nephew decides he has to use the bathroom. He also insists that he has to use the “Big Boys” room, and no girls are allowed in there. He adamantly told us to stand outside the door, and refused to go into the girls’ room. So, my sister opens the mens’ room door, hollers to see if anyone is in there, and lets him go when there is no answer. About 5 minutes later, he comes walking out of the bathroom…completely naked, hollering, “Mommy, I’m done! I finished peeing!” My sister ran into the bathroom, snatched up his clothes, and took him into the ladies’ room to re-clothe him. Apparently he can’t go to the bathroom unless he takes off all of his clothes.