The Pitfalls of the Singular Bathroom Stall (or My Fun Toilet Adventures)

So yesterday I’m at a restaurant eating dinner with my wonderful mother when my brain informs me that it’s time to shit. No big deal, it’s not the first meal that I’ve been sharing where I had to get up to empty part of a former meal that I had shared with another.  A little selfish of the past meal, but what can you do.  We’re near the end of our meal drinking coffee (which in hindsight could be the culprit) so I tell my mom I have to use the bathroom, get up, and go.  Unfortunately this is one of those retarded restaurants that only has one bathroom stall per gender.  But don’t worry, the men’s room has a urinal as well as a toilet in case you wanted to piss with a friend, or shit while your friend pisses.  Whatever I’m not judging.

Anyway so I get over to the bathroom area and of course there’s a guy and his kid waiting on line and my first thought is “this better not be the time where this guy is trying to teach his kid some fucking independence,” because I was starting to back up and probably would have had to shit on this kid.  Luckily that wasn’t the case since the dude took his child in when the man in the bathroom left, making sure his kid pissed the right way and all of that I’m sure.  As I’m waiting the shit pains subside a bit since I figured I’d get to the bathroom soon.  There was also a bitchy looking woman waiting for her bathroom too.  I wondered if she also had to shit since her face was so scowly but didn’t ask since I assumed she was just a bitchy bitch.  We just did that awkward “yeah we’re in the same place at the same time” expression where you look around sighing.

About a minute or so later the dude and his kid come out of the men’s room.  Phew.  I really wasn’t trying to shit on this bitch’s shoes.  So I go in, grumble again about the stupidity of a single-stall bathroom, make the little toilet-paper-poop-guard thing since they didn’t have any and I don’t want the herp, then sit down in anticipation of some flowing poop.  I’m on the bowl not 30 seconds when I hear a man’s voice outside the door.  At this point I’m praying that he’s scowlbitch’s dude and that he’s come to check on her and make sure she didn’t get caught in the crapper.  That wasn’t the case.

Now mind you I have no poop shame and think it’s a pretty retarded phenomenon.  As I pointed out in this article people shouldn’t be praised for something everyone does and the other side of that coin is that nobody should feel shame for something everyone does, let alone must do.  It’s a fucking biological process.  The people who aren’t pooping are dead people, and they’re like that for some reason.  We’ve all gotta shit, some of us a lot, so it’s no big deal.  I’ve also had a lot of practice and have had to shit in a variety of places and locales so pooping in public wasn’t the problem.  No, the problem that seemed to be rearing it’s head was that this fucker was about to rush my poop because whatever’s trying to come out of his digestive system is more important than what’s coming out of mine. No way asshole.

So the inevitable knock on the door comes.  The door’s closed and the guy knocks while asking the woman still standing there if there was someone behind the door he was about to knock on.  Didn’t wait for a response.  Before I can even say “occupato” this shitknocker tries to turn the knob to open the door.  What the fuck?  If I hadn’t taken the necessary precautions by locking the door this ass-hat would have seen me pooping.  What the fuck makes you think you think you’re worthy of seeing this man on his throne while brown lava seeps from his lower-most orifice?  But in all honesty I wouldn’t have cared much if I didn’t lock the door but I can guarantee this shit would have been pissed if the door hadn’t been because it’s happened to me before. People open the door and they’re like “what the fuckb dude?” as if I’m the wrong one. You’re the ass that chose not to knock, this is what you’re gonna get. You were trying to enter a men’s room so I’m not sure what you could have expected behind the door. There are only like four realistic outcomes.

Anyway now this guy has knocked and tried to enter so I was finally able to inform him that there was indeed someone inside and not some malevolent ghost who decided to fuck with him by denying his poop. So I’m just doing my crap, feeling the pressure of this guy wanting to get inside but also keeping my cool and going about my business. Now I can hear him trying to make small talk with scowl bitch, who apparently is still waiting on whatever Jabba the Hut-like creature that must have been dumping up the women’s room. They established they’re both in the bathroom line. She’s originally from Merrick, he acknowledges he’s from the same place, Bellmore, really banking on the forced commonality. Seemed like a match made in heaven to me, until the dude opened up his mouth next. With seemingly nothing left to talk about he relied on their common experience: waiting. This was bullshit because he had been waiting maybe three minutes at this point.

“Jeez, long wait today,” he says. “Yeah you’re telling me,” she responds. “I wonder what he’s doing in there,” he says retardedly, to which I respond “I’m trying to rub one out, shut up.” Silence. I couldn’t get over how stupid that statement was. You’re waiting for the men’s room, if I’m not out in 15 seconds I’m obviously taking a shit or banging someone, but probably not the latter so sit the fuck tight. After about 30 seconds of silence the woman tries to ignore what she may or may not have heard and jokingly says “ha, I wonder who’s going to come out first at this point.” They might not have known, but I sure did. But seriously twat, you’ve been waiting at least 14 minutes by my estimate, this dude for maybe four, slow your bitchy roll. Plus for all this dude knows I’m masturbating in an Italian restaurant, so at this point he’s probably not all that eager to see the beast on the other side of this door.

A couple more minutes go by and at this point I’m taking my time a little. Then I hear the click of the other door opening and the twat and Jabba trading places, leaving assclown to wait for me. Another few seconds goes by, I wipe the shit out of my ass, tidy up, wash the hands, then go to leave. But before I left I decided that just in case this guy heard me before I was going to fuck with him further. I grabbed a paper towel and as I opened the door started to wipe my face vigorously. I don’t know if he believed that I came on my own face, but it was worth a try. He didn’t make eye contact so unfortunately I was unable to try to cull the truth from this doucher’s soul.

Moral of the story? No fucking clue, just don’t rush me when I’m trying to shit. And if you’re a prospective restaurant owner do us all a favor and install more than one bathroom stall. Rock on.

Corey Aaron

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