I was doing one of my road trips with my buddies. We all got together after work, ate at the Spaghetti Factory, grabbed a case of Bud Light, and hit the road. Around 9:30 at night we pulled into this super busy Meggy Dees. I think the town was Decatur. Most of the clientele looked to be teenagers. It reminded me of the Meggy Dees I worked at while in high school. We were hungry, so we got out of the car to check the action. I ordered my usual: a double cheeseburger (they were going for only ninety-nine cents) and a small fries. I had to take a leak, so I went into the men's room.
This must of been an older Meggy Dees, because the john seemed ancient. It had two urinals and two stalls. In one of the stalls there was this guy, probably around thirty years old, taking a dump.
There were no doors on the stalls.
So here was this guy, grunting his way through a massive waste disposal activity, in view of all who enter this washroom facility. I felt bad for him. While I took my piss I could hear him grunting as he kept cutting loose with gastrophic noises.
I'm the type of guy who can piss anywhere -- in the woods, in a bucket, or off a hotel balcony. But when it comes to taking a dump, I gotta shit at home. I mean, even if there was an emergency and I had to cut loose of all the internal intoxication of which a body is capable after a spicy Mexican meal, I would rather crap my trousers than be a spectacle on the can in a toilet room that is without privacy.
I took an extra-long leak as this poor soul continued to counter-fumigate this restroom. I went to the sink to wash my hands. As this guy continued to crap away, two teens walked in to take a leak. When they heard this guy farting up a storm, they just burst out laughing.
At this point, I left. The two teens ran out right behind me and headed to their table, still laughing like Beavis and Butthead, telling their friends that there's some guy in there "laying a big one." The table was full of other teens, each of whom decided they too had to "check it out." So they kept filing in there two at a time, and when they'd return they'd be chuckling up a storm as if they were leaving a comedy club.
After about ten or fifteen minutes, the thirty-year-old guy still hadn't left the bathroom. My buddy Scorch then had to take a legitimate piss. He left the table and went into the restroom-turned-amusement-park. Right after Scorch entered the john, this guy who was making a chore out of emptying his intestinal system leaves. Scorch comes out laughing just like the teens. He says the guy got up, wiped his ass and went to flush, but the toilet wouldn't flush. It was out of order!
He says this to me and Brad so loud that the teens at the table hear, and all of them again pile into the john for an "encore." Moments later they poured back out of the john, laughing and fanning their noses. Scorch confirmed that this guy sure did "mark his territory."
My question is: why in the hell wouldn't McDonalds -- or any place that has a public facilities for that matter -- have stall doors?