Where was your worst public bathroom experience?

[vipjon]

Oops

[Robert]

Only then are you allowed to fawn over Ms Heather Wade.

Can't do that any more since she changed her voice from sultry-sexy to hillbilly w post-nasal drip.  But her show's good.

[ksm32]

2005 Handjob by two whiskey whores.  In the bathroom of one of the motel rooms from the movie Reindeer Games with Ben Affleck and those others. Shitty movie.

[Robert]

Can't do that any more since she changed her voice from sultry-sexy to hillbilly w post-nasal drip.  But her show's good.

Still probably the weakest on the DMDN schedule, though.

[MV/Liberace!]

The worst public bathroom I've ever seen was at the old zoo outside of Rabat, Morocco. I say "old" because at the time of this particular bathroom experience, the zoo was about to be closed in conjunction with the opening of a new zoo a short distance away. I guess because it was about to shut down permanently, the third world cretins running this place decided not to bother cleaning the bathrooms for the final few weeks the zoo remained open.



To visualize, just imagine the above photo with 90% less light and hepatitis you could actually hear.

Having said all of that, the new zoo and everything about it are first rate.

[whoozit]

Was anyone looking up at you through the hole while you did your business?

[DigitalPigSnuggler]

Years ago I was in Scotland and got steaming drunk the night before having to board a train for London.

Wake up with a five-alarm hangover, dash to the train station at the last minute.  Grab my ticket, running to the train, butt cheeks clenched together heroically trying to retain the devil's own post-drinking shitstorm.

For those of you who are not aware, your sphincter can not be clenched shut perpetually.  At some point, no matter how hard you try, it will involuntarily relax (this knowledge can be used advantageously in anal sex, for those with patience).  And mine did.  Oh my lord a pantload that would make Senda proud.  The smell made me dizzy.

The train stations at the time were similar to airports in the USA and elsewhere; there are clothing outlets.  I shuffle in to one of them that carried Levis.  Seconds to spare before my train leaves, and leaves me behind.  I grab a pair of Levis from the shelf-cube labelled 32 (who cares about the length, just need a fit), pay at the register and ignore the wrinkled nose of the cashier, run for my train.  Photo finish and I JUST make it. 

Head for the bathroom and feeling optimistic about things for the first time all morning.  Blessed relief as I enter the little room.  Pull off my soiled pants and undies, roll them up and hurl them out the window (sorry, Farmer John).  Clean myself up, wash my ass, feeling clean and fresh.

Grab the bag and pull out the Levis.  Shake them out for inspection and orientation.

It's a jean jacket, not a pair of pants, size 32.

[albrecht]

The worst public bathroom I've ever seen was at the old zoo outside of Rabat, Morocco. I say "old" because at the time of this particular bathroom experience, the zoo was about to be closed in conjunction with the opening of a new zoo a short distance away. I guess because it was about to shut down permanently, the third world cretins running this place decided not to bother cleaning the bathrooms for the final few weeks the zoo remained open.



To visualize, just imagine the above photo with 90% less light and hepatitis you could actually hear.

Having said all of that, the new zoo and everything about it are first rate.

Goodness. That looks worse than most zoo animal accomodations. Having said that (Ive never been) but heard from friends and family that Morocco can be cool. Like step through what looks like a shitty building n door in a crappy neighborhood and inside is nice restaurant or hotel.

[albrecht]

Years ago I was in Scotland and got steaming drunk the night before having to board a train for London.

Wake up with a five-alarm hangover, dash to the train station at the last minute.  Grab my ticket, running to the train, butt cheeks clenched together heroically trying to retain the devil's own post-drinking shitstorm.

For those of you who are not aware, your sphincter can not be clenched shut perpetually.  At some point, no matter how hard you try, it will involuntarily relax (this knowledge can be used advantageously in anal sex, for those with patience).  And mine did.  Oh my lord a pantload that would make Senda proud.  The smell made me dizzy.

The train stations at the time were similar to airports in the USA and elsewhere; there are clothing outlets.  I shuffle in to one of them that carried Levis.  Seconds to spare before my train leaves, and leaves me behind.  I grab a pair of Levis from the shelf-cube labelled 32 (who cares about the length, just need a fit), pay at the register and ignore the wrinkled nose of the cashier, run for my train.  Photo finish and I JUST make it. 

Head for the bathroom and feeling optimistic about things for the first time all morning.  Blessed relief as I enter the little room.  Pull off my soiled pants and undies, roll them up and hurl them out the window (sorry, Farmer John).  Clean myself up, wash my ass, feeling clean and fresh.

Grab the bag and pull out the Levis.  Shake them out for inspection and orientation.

It's a jean jacket, not a pair of pants, size 32.

Ha! Howd you get out of that? If true that is epic. Hope you werent arrested on a morals charge. I did a quick change at the airport there once. Due to similiar issues resultant from a long night out. Put on an old suit that was too tight that morning. Sweating bullets, found a crapper, wrecked it, n found and went into my suitcase for a pair of loose jeans for flight.

[Uncle Duke]

Ha! Howd you get out of that? If true that is epic. Hope you werent arrested on a morals charge. I did a quick change at the airport there once. Due to similiar issues resultant from a long night out. Put on an old suit that was too tight that morning. Sweating bullets, found a crapper, wrecked it, n found and went into my suitcase for a pair of loose jeans for flight.

For me at least, there's nothing worse than flying hungover.  Last time I did, it was a flight from London to Dulles (against a strong headwind) and I was absolutely miserable.  I swore if I survived, I'd never do it again.  That was in 2001, and I haven't drank the night before flying since.

[albrecht]

For me at least, there's nothing worse than flying hungover.  Last time I did, it was a flight from London to Dulles (against a strong headwind) and I was absolutely miserable.  I swore if I survived, I'd never do it again.  That was in 2001, and I haven't drank the night before flying since.

Post 911 and the new duty-free and flask restrictions are a pain. But, little know condicile, a friendly TSA gave me awhile back at LAX. It is legal to bring those small bottles in one's carry-on baggage. Technically illegal to drink on plane or in airport. But will pass through security, and you can have many IF individual under the TSA volume,  (Though a stewardess also said legal if you let them pour? I guess like 'set ups' in dry counties? But that was a charter so not sure if legal on commercial?) In any event worth the cheap investment and one can be a hero during delayed flights when airport bars are down.

[ACE of CLUBS]

Who's Art Bell ?
BellGab ..... what's that ?

[paladin1991]

Who's Art Bell ?
BellGab ..... what's that ?

BelllGab is you.  You are BellGab.

[vipjon]

Years ago I was in Scotland and got steaming drunk the night before having to board a train for London.

Wake up with a five-alarm hangover, dash to the train station at the last minute.  Grab my ticket, running to the train, butt cheeks clenched together heroically trying to retain the devil's own post-drinking shitstorm.

For those of you who are not aware, your sphincter can not be clenched shut perpetually.  At some point, no matter how hard you try, it will involuntarily relax (this knowledge can be used advantageously in anal sex, for those with patience).  And mine did.  Oh my lord a pantload that would make Senda proud.  The smell made me dizzy.

The train stations at the time were similar to airports in the USA and elsewhere; there are clothing outlets.  I shuffle in to one of them that carried Levis.  Seconds to spare before my train leaves, and leaves me behind.  I grab a pair of Levis from the shelf-cube labelled 32 (who cares about the length, just need a fit), pay at the register and ignore the wrinkled nose of the cashier, run for my train.  Photo finish and I JUST make it. 

Head for the bathroom and feeling optimistic about things for the first time all morning.  Blessed relief as I enter the little room.  Pull off my soiled pants and undies, roll them up and hurl them out the window (sorry, Farmer John).  Clean myself up, wash my ass, feeling clean and fresh.

Grab the bag and pull out the Levis.  Shake them out for inspection and orientation.

It's a jean jacket, not a pair of pants, size 32.

Omg then what? What did you do?

[pate]

Rather than hang around the atmosphere of that old loo, I dug a hole and dragged the "outhouse/seat-of-ease" to the new shit-pit.

Or asked my betters why they built a haus around the shit-pile foggy...