I was in town, waiting for some friends to show up. With my free time, I decided to casually stroll around. Since the beginning of the day there had been pressure in my bowels, and it had been increasing every so often. The pressure grew and grew, but I couldn't think of anywhere to go. I continued to walk around until at last my stomach started to physically hurt. I ran into the Hyatt, the nearest building with a public toilet, and dashed into the bathroom.
I had gotten extremely lucky. This was indeed a heavenly bathroom -- good smells, shining marble floors, clean stalls and seats, and relieving music. It was a five-stall setup; the first was occupied, so I took the second one without thinking -- I was in a rush. I immediately dropped my pants and boxers to my ankles and unleashed an unheavenly load of diarrhea. The noise of it hitting the water was hellish, but I was finally relieved. I still had more in me, though. Since I was in it for the long run, I decided to sit back.
However, the man besides me wanted differently: he was a Shameful Shitter. The whole time he sat back, without coughing, grabbing toilet paper, or doing anything. The stalls were too close into each other -- I could see his ankles, his pants, and his stupid boxers. He was shaking. Finally, he got so uncomfortable that he moved out of his stall and to the handicap one, the stall furthest down.
After unleashing another horrible blast, I knew it was time to wipe. But to my dismay, I had no toilet paper! I decided maybe I'd wait out the man and then make a stall hop to get toilet paper, since now that he was so far away I couldn't ask him for some. But as I pondered a way to get out of one predicament, another problem arose: outside my stall was the cleaning lady, mopping the floors.
I started to get horribly embarrassed. She walked by my stall and made direct eye contact with me on the pot through the crack of the stall door. Humiliated, I asked her for toilet paper, but she couldn't hear me. I had no choice.
I lifted my drawers and got out to transfer to the stall beside me. This toilet had a big log in it and pee on the seat, so I had to go to the fourth stall, the one next to the handicapped stall where the man was now. When I sat on to wipe, another bombardment suddenly came upon me.
Once the whole ordeal was done and I got out of the stall, the cleaning lady confronted me. With a loud hiss, she said she was angry that I had gotten up twice to go from toilet to toilet, stinking things up for her to clean. It would have been really easy to sympathize -- had I not gone through what I just did!
-- El Chijon
