True Story

Public restrooms; let's talk about it. First of all, let's just get this straight. Normally I don't think much about public restrooms at all. But if forced to think about them I would categorize them as necessary evils. Sometimes I get a little harassment from the Peanut Gallery because of my aversion to going number-two in public restrooms. I understand that everyone poops. And I know that the best place for such occurrences is, in fact, the restroom. But it's not me I'm worried about.
My resolve was strengthened this morning. After a bowl of oatmeal and two cups of coffee my needs overpowered my trepidation and I found myself in the "stealth bathroom". I had been there a while and thought I was home-free, when I heard the door open and my heart sank. As everyone with restroom issues knows, you have to preserve anonymity at all costs. So I would just have to wait her out. But things went from bad to worse when all of a sudden she broke the silence with a hearty, booming, "OOOH GIRL! I SHO DO STANK UP IN HEAH!" I was so shocked that the anonymity clause flew out the window. Before I knew what had happened I had yelled back, "UHM, HELLO! I'm sitting RIGHT HERE!!" I heard the woman crinkling paper in her stall. "All right, now, honey," she boomed, "I gots me some lysol spray right heah." I have no clue if she brought the Lysol with her or if it was just convieniently in her stall. I don't even know if she actually had any or if she was just trying to be funny. But I finished up and fled the scene quickly, before things could get any worse.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I have issues with going number two in public restrooms.