Responding to mother nature I had to use the claustrophobically crammed gentlemen's rest room in the airport. The awful thing about sharing a toilet isle with another man is the awkwardness of trying to not stare at him while both of you are reading from the same New York Times. And then because your asscheeks are so close to his, you can feel his bowel movement as he unloads a gigantic piece of poo poo right into the toilet basin. And although not spoken, you know it's your turn to squat the same thing out. The smell is unbearable. I tried to flip the page to what I was reading but he put his hands on my wrist and said "honey, I'm not done with my side yet".
Don't even get me started about the wiping part.
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