Flushing Your Problems Away: Why I do not Flush Toilets in Public

I am usually the type of person who has bad things happen to them when they least expect it, and at a speed so fast that I am unable to comprehend the lethalness of the situation so as to assess it properly and solve the initial problem. Today, my worst fears arose when combined with a public toilet, my urine, and a stranger's faeces.

Yes, just when you thought being caught up in a strange situation at a bad time was bad in itself, it only became worse. I was at a certain place that I shall not name at a certain time, and I was in dire need of using the bathroom. Usually when I am outside of the house I am hesitant because I am paranoid of catching diseases and I fear toilets other than my own because once I am used to something change frightens me. So, I decided to take a leap of faith and visit a cubicle.

Naturally, I chose the isolated, closed off disabled cubicle and I walked in, turned on the light and locked the door. I had plenty of time to urinate, which was good considering I was wearing a leather jacket and things are much more difficult to do when you cannot find yourself parting with your leather jacket, despite the heat and despite your need to empty your bladder in utter comfort. Anyway, I leaned over to clean the seat. Once, twice, thrice, I need to rid myself of the possibility of catching something from someone.

As I was vigorously wiping away, I failed to notice what was inside the bowl until I came to throw the toilet paper away, my fingers tucked into the sides of my hips underneath the waistline of my legging, ready to pull down, turn and sit. But I stopped. I stopped and had to look for a while to understand that something horrible went on moments before I came to use this cubicle. Well, firstly, someone else has fears of peeing near somebody so I am glad I am not alone. Except today, they decided to excrete textured waste, not the liquid sort. Judging by the content, I am assuming they had eaten something that their stomach had not agreed with.

But who was I to judge a person excreting waste in this environment? I appreciate the fact that they had flushed the toilet, in an attempt to clean it from their sticky pile of waste, however I do not appreciate the sludge sitting at the bottom, when there is a perfect toilet brush sitting right beside the bowl waiting for its day of use to come. But let us assume that this person did not notice the brush, gleaming in the same white as the bowl before they painted it with their faecal matter.

Anyway, I decided to sit down and do my business. After all, I had not been seen entering this cubicle but judging my luck someone would see me walk out, would walk in and see the skidmark sitting in the bowl and would walk out and blame me. So I did my business there and then to avoid this horrid scenario. Little did I know, that despite me having avoided every possible bad scenario that day, I stumbled upon something worse.

I usually do not flush toilets outside of home, especially if I just urinate because I am unbeknownst of the flushing style, sound and strength, all of which scare me, but today I decided to be a good citizen and flush, hopefully ridding the next visitor of the sight of the nauseating poop. I held the full flush button, as I do with my toilet, and the water filled in at a faster than normal pace. It twirled, dancing with my pee and the toilet paper I used and the pieces of poop that started to lift off the bottom of the bowl and then it... did not descend? No, it did not descend.

In fact, the water level just kept on rising. I panicked. I stared down at the bowl. This was not going to end well. Now apart from the next visitor thinking that I had pooped and left the skidmark there, they would think that I flooded the pipes with the size of my matter. I could not let this happen. So, I held the flush button again just in case it was jammed. This has happened to me on some occasions, so I prayed that this was one of those times. It was not.

The water filled and filled and filled the bowl, all the way up until it was two centimetres from overflowing. Blobs of the previous person's poop rose and floated, looking like a blender with too little meat and too much water. It was the worst sight I had ever witnessed, and it was something that I would leave behind. Me. My reputation, flushed down the drain unlike what just rose from these tainted pipes. My urine floated above all of this like oil atop water. Now I was ruined. What if the institution would test my urine and find that it was mine and blame me for clogging the entire system? Oh, Lord.

And while I was peeing before this disaster, I heard two people walk in to use the other cubicles. I decided to wash my hands, and get out of there as fast as possible so as to avoid mere eye contact with another human, and to avoid anybody seeing me walk out of that wretched room. I succeeded, until I reached the door to exit and was forced by habit to hold it open for the lady behind me. Great. I was spotted. This is why I will never flush a public toilet again.