Man, I loved shitting in college.
I usually can't shit at home in the morning -- milk makes my guts hurt, so I typically had a banana or a toast sandwich with juice. I'd make my 8 am class and sit through 45 mins when my shit would start acting up. Around 9, I'd have to go.
I always avoided the social science and economics department bathrooms. I dunno what the deal is with people in these majors -- the men's room always had piss splashed everywhere and wads of wet toilet paper in the sinks. Therefore, I sought refuge in the chemistry building.
Those scientists know how to shit! The building was constructed in the 1960's and the restroom has this retro-Americana charm that I really loved. It was all done in this super 60's orange tile and metal-painted (not cheap particleboard with faux plastic overlay) matching orange stalls. The basement restroom was my baby because all of the labs were located there, and I had total privacy in such a low-traffic area.
I will be honest with you when I say I am a Shameful Shitter. I guess this all goes back to high school when I had a panic attack if I had to shit at school. I'm just a hygienic guy and it's bad enough having to wait until a shower after a public shit, but having to sit in a piss-infested area and risking a turd splashing contaminated water on my O-ring terrifies me. I also find how sometimes bowls are built small so your cock and balls accidentally touch the inside of the bowl... I feel so dirty if that happens.
Anyway, the chemicals from the labs gave the restroom a light sulfer smell. Normally that stinks, but here it was peaceful, dry, cold, and sterile, so I loved it. I'd get my pick of seven empty stalls daily.
I usually chose the one next to the tile wall so I could pencil in messages to a buddy I had made (via the wall). We'd discuss things like politics, music, and society on the wall -- I'd write some and he would reply and so forth. I can't tell you how profound my thoughts are after having relieved myself of the feeling of my intestines ripping.
The toilet paper was well stocked in there because of this awesome cleaning lady that worked at the school. She knew my schedule and was respectful. Normally these people knock and give us Shameful Shitters heart failure. But this saint of a woman would sit on a bench outside the men's room, and only when I came out would she go in to do her work.
Sadly, we never spoke to each other. But there was this mutual respect thing between us -- I loved her upkeep of the place, and she liked how I kept it clean and always flushed. I want to go back to school and thank her for all she did for me.
Surprisingly, I had a 95%+ rate of normal shits in that place. I think there's a large psychological component to how your shit comes out. If you expect things to be bad, then they will be. It's sort of like a self-fulfilling prophesy. Therefore, I always went in with a "I am going to have a great shit" attitude -- and I often did.
I was however, traumatized by a Shameless Shitter that invaded my territory one time. This guy had the nerve to take the stall next to me when 5 others were empty! He undid his pants and sat down and I heard all of the emissions of gas pass his O-ring. He sounded like a trumpeter. Then, it sounded like a microcosm of Hiroshima was taking place just inches from me. It was bombs away, and from what I would hear, it was pellet-like. The dude even had the nerve to go "Ahh... ohhhh... ugh". I never saw his face, but he had these black penny loafers that I will remember till the day I die!
I graduated this year, and I will dearly miss that restroom. I had such a long and loving relationship with it. Some alumni from my school who have become rich and famous have donated money for new buildings and scholarships. If I am blessed with wealth later in life, I will return to my school and have that restroom preserved via a living trust fund.