The Etiquette of The Public Shit

Awhile back, I had written a post titled, "The Art of the Fart".  Not long after hitting "post", I deleted it.  The few people that had had the chance to read it were outraged that I had deleted it before they had a chance to share it with their friends or family.  Maybe not outraged, but they were definitely choked.  So, for those of you who missed out on "The Art of the Fart"...have no fear, this is post is not going to be deleted :)

Two weeks ago, I attended my university class' eight year reunion (we planned it ourselves...the U of S doesn't honour the eight year landmark...I'm going to have to speak to them about that).  Anyways, there was much alcohol imbibed and good times were had by all.  The next morning, the only cure for my queasy stomach and throbbing head was something fatty and greasy, so off to McDonald's we went. Shortly after that, we had to part ways and it was time for me to hit the highway.

I was barely cruising along on the good old number 11 when the combination of alcohol and Chicken McNuggets began to cause some discomfort in my stomach.  It was one of those gut churning growls that let me know I wasn't going to make it all the way home without making a pit stop.  My best option was the newly built gas station in the next town.  It was either that, or take my chances I could make it home and not have to stop next to a cow field.  Because there was no toilet paper in the van, I decided to stop at the gas station.

I can't speak for the men, but I can say that as a lady woman of the female gender, there are certain rules for pooping in public.  Rule number one is that you at least attempt to wait until the bathroom is clear before unloading.  As I walked into the washroom, I was dismayed to discover three out of the four stalls were occupied.  I slunk into the last available stall and waited.  Shortly thereafter, two of the stalls emptied and the women went about their way.  Now I just had to wait for the woman immediately next to me to finish up and leave.

It quickly became apparent that the Other Woman wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.  She was, in fact, waiting for ME to leave so that she could poop.  I panicked for a moment when I realized what was happening...we were caught in a Shit Standoff, if you will. Both of us were waiting for the other to leave before beginning our BM.  I instantly started to sweat, going over the rules for what to do if there is someone else in the washroom...courtesy flushes <stomach growl>, taking advantage of outside noises to cover up sounds <another stomach growl>, making own noises to cover up sounds <stomach swirling and groaning> etc.

The seconds ticked by for what seemed like an eternity.  My stomach wasn't able to hold back for much longer and I realized I would have to take the initiative on this one.  I began very slowly, very quietly, giving a cough here and there as needed.  As I was doing this, I was studying the Other Woman's shoes so that if we met up in the convenience store, I would be able to avoid any eye contact with her. I was proud for how things were progressing when it became apparent that a courtesy flush was in order.  I reached behind me to hit the handle and was horrified when my hand hit the cold, tile wall.  For the love of all that is good and holy...I was sitting on an automatic flusher.  In order to give the much needed courtesy flush, I would need to stand up to activate it.

I'm not 100% sure how automatic flushers work, but I did discover that it's not activated by simply raising up off the seat.  There is some type of laser beam that seems to wait until you have completely left the stall, because there was some hopping and side-stepping involved in getting that god-damn toilet to flush.  Just as I was preparing myself to stand on the toilet paper dispenser, the most beloved sound of a flushing toilet occurred. The Other Woman used rule number two (no pun intended) and took advantage of outside noises to start her busy work.  However, she misjudged how long the toilet would flush and, as the bathroom quickly quieted, my ears were privy to what was, perhaps, her previous night's shenanigans as well.

Not once, but three times I gave the Other Woman the benefit of the courtesy flush.  I actually became quite good at getting the sensor to go off in a relatively short amount of time.  If hopping around sans pants in order to trigger sensors was a job skill, I would be the first to be hired. Towards the end, I was tired of being the one to make sure she was comfortable and able to Properly Poo in Public, so I gave up and literally just let it all out.  I saw it as punishment for her putting all the work on my shoulders.  I figured that by the time I was done, wiped and washed, I would be out of the store before she could even figure out how to get the toilet to flush.

I was planning on simply bolting from the store, but decided I needed a bottle of water to help replenish lost fluids.  I was standing at the till, ready to pay when I spied the perfect reward for having won the Shit Standoff...a Mr. Big chocolate bar.