The Worst Thing You've Seen in a Public Restroom

Illustration for article titled The Worst Thing Youve Seen in a Public Restroom
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Now that it is year 90 of social distancing, I’m working to try and find simple pleasures wherever I can (otherwise, the monotony is going to take over and fully rot my brain, hindering my ability to blog. I’m sure you can relate). So far, my list is just: more time for TV, eating, and only ever using my own toilet.

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It’s not hyperbolic to say public restrooms are disgusting. All of us know from experience. So, and I know I’m going to regret this, but nothing matters—this week’s Pissing Contest is all about the washroom. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen in a public bathroom? No pictures allowed. Let’s not make your fellow commenters hurl, alright?

But before all that, here are last week’s winners. These are your most ridiculous class reunion stories.

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Seabassy, every part of this is great:

10 year high school reunion out in my boonies hometown. Traveled in from another state. Like 15 people showed up. We all got too drunk and decided to go to the local strip club. Not only were people we graduated with working at the strip club, my high school nemesis and his wife invited me to enjoy a lap dance with them....and I did! Then i couldn’t find my ride and had to call my dad to come pick me up. When he did the bouncer knew him by name. My dad asked if Valencia was working tonight. We rode home in silence and never spoke of it again.

BabySquirrel, I’m including this because the Rainforest Cafe rules, sorry:

My high school reunion was supposed to take place at the Reagan Presidential Library, but not enough people RSVP’d so the planning committee lost their deposit and they ended up just all going to the Rainforest Cafe in Downtown Disney. I always knew I would not be attending, but that might have been the most gloriously delicious schadenfreude of my life, reading the incessant emails from the committee begging us to RSVP and pay or we will lose the Reagan Library.

I had my own personal college reunion with my best friends/old roommates, it was a sleepover at my house with a wading pool, more wine than I can ever remember seeing us drink in one night, painting, witchcraft, and talking shit on our husbands.

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RealFlamingjune, this sounds like a good time:

Ten year HS reunion with my best pals. As I arrive at my friend’s house, the first “casual” get together night, I notice her mom’s neighbor has a racist lawn jockey in their front yard. I am incensed. We proceed to the bar and get all kinds of messed up, having a great time, but still stewing. At about midnight, I tell her we have a mission. I borrow my friend’s old Triumph convertible and we head out. But I am short and can’t get the seat to move forward. I shove a gallon water bottle behind my back to help out and we proceed back to steal the statue. My brilliant friend says it’s not enough to get rid of it, we have to destroy it so no one can ever use it again, which she does by smashing it in a dumpster. As we drive back to the bar, I realize every time I push in the clutch, the water in the jug is leaking. My miniskirt and the seat are soaked. I give my friend back the keys but it was too loud in the bar to explain why the driver’s seat was wet. I am certain he thought I peed all over his cute lil’ Triumph.

The next night, at the fancy dinner, I was hungover as hell. And realize all of it is a bunch of gossipy bullshit, just like HS. We start drinking, again, and eventually end up doing some table dancing at the dinner in our short skirts. I will always remember the utter disbelief on the faces of some of our guy pals and the widest smiles. It was a blast, frankly, and maybe one of the first times I realized the thrill and power of not giving a fuck what people thought.

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Suffersfoolsgladly, this is not boring, this is sweet!:

I know these stories are usually fraught with weirdness..but I went to a wonderful co-ed boarding school in the sixties and early 70's.

I still know all the people, we have reunions every five years on the old campue in the Berkshires and most of us are in constant touch in between times.

I recently lost my husband to cancer and went through breast cancer myself at the same time he was sick.. and so many of my former school mates were right there, supporting me the whole time.

A bunch of alumni pitched in and bought me a gift in memory of my husband which was delivered to me by the roommate I had when we were both 14.

My birth family was less than wonderful, but the family I created at my school is still going strong fifty years later.

I know. This is boring.

Charlie, I suppose I can only respect this:

the most ridiculous thing is that they sent me an invitation

Get shitty in the comments below.

Senior Writer, Jezebel. My debut book, LARGER THAN LIFE: A History of Boy Bands, is out now.

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DISCUSSION

slayerville
Get Thee Hence

Oh boy, I have one. Back in the 1990s I had a job at a large “anchor” department store at a huge shopping mall. For whatever reason, our men’s rooms became notorious “cruise spots” where men would meet for anonymous sex. It was a daily thing, you’d pop into the bathroom to take a quick one and there would inevitably be a random guy or two just hanging out in there. Someone even managed to cut through a metal divider wall to make a glory hole. One guy used to come in as soon as we opened and sit in a stall all day, he even brought lunch and a small radio. The mirrors were frequently, uh, coated with a substance that looked an awful lot like, uh, jizz.

So one weeknight evening I had to use the john. I pushed on the door and someone was blocking it so I just shoved harder. I get the door open halfway and there were five dudes in there. Two of them were having full-on intercourse, bare ass naked, right on the tile floor. The other three guys were masturbating. I called security who ended up rousting them.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just that, you know, it was a public bathroom next to the men’s shoe department and all. I also once witnessed two people having loud sex in a port-a-john outside a large sports arena hosting a concert (Metallica 1989)...in August, no less. Yuck.