Home bowl syndrome

My wife once stopped at a gas station so I could go in and buy a drink for the baby. When inside I had to pee so I walked to the bathroom. First thing I see is a sign "Please stop shitting everywhere but the toilet." I peed somewhere else.

 

The HBS obviously was not much of a factor in my month-long journey to Seoul for the 1988 Olympics.
You get over it in the course if a month - or, I suppose, you die.
The Olympic Main Press Center men's mega-bathroom complex had at least two women always on cleaning duty inside, 24 hours a day.
There were a certain number of classic Western toilets, but also the classic Asian hole-in-the-floor stalls.
I used the porcelain facilities, needless to say.

 

The toilets at The Masters are the best event toilets I've ever seen. The counters at the sinks are granite, and the attendants clean the bowls after each use. I didn't have to reenact the Shot Heard 'Round the World, but I don't think I'd have any trouble if I did.

 

Wow, I don't think I ever saw this thread before.

So many great stories. Lets see:

- In college I came home drunk and had to take a mega hot chowda and was undoing my parents as I raced to the back of the house. Let'r fly and then went and passed out. Got up for class, threw on my clothes from the night before and sat down. I looked down and saw I had dried mud all down the back of my pants. 'Hmmm, I don't recall it being muddy last niiii.....OH SHIT!' Luckily it didn't stink and I got home to check the bathroom...yup, I took such a wonderfully satisfying shit that I didn't even make it on the pot! All over the rugs in the bathroom and on my pants.

- Not college, in fact...very much in my 30s... I visit an old friend and we walk to a bar near his place. Closing finally comes, we are tanked and I go and take a piss. We leave and get about a 1/4-mile down the road and I start feeling 'the need'. And it came on quick. I just drop trow and squat against whatever is close in the parking lot and go to town. Squeeze the cheeks and hoist up the boxers and hope for no stains. My buddy then states: "Man, that mailman is going to be PISSED tomorrow!"
Yup. I took a dump in front of a USPS blue mailbox. You are welcome Mr./Ms. Public Servant. My bad.

 

I knew a guy in college who got so drunk that he passed out in the drawer of a bedroom dresser, which he mistook for a bed. And he shit his pants during the night, so from that point on he was called Splotch, to his great dismay.

Fast-forward a couple of years, and Splotch was wrestling around one night with his fraternity "little brother" during a party. Both of them were pretty tanked, and Splotch, a big, bearded bear of a guy, wound up cramming Little Brother, a bantamweight, into a nearby fireplace, which wasn't being used at the time. At this point. Little Brother shit his pants, and the legacy was not lost on the rest of us.

From that night on they were Splotch and Baby Splotch.

 

I guess that's better than doing your parents

 

Overserved chap at the local boozer had a rather satisfying dump in the bar shitter, which would have been even better had he been alert enough to take his boxers down.

 

Worked with a guy, God rest his soul, who was (jn)famous for being so drunk that he:

1, Pissed in a dresser drawer - in his own apartment
2, Pissed in a restaurant kitchen. Got him banned, of course.

 

Never had the HBS problem. Given some of the locations work takes me, well, I got over that fear long ago.

However, as some of my work locations have become more inhabited, portajohns are the norm. On my last trip, which was only nine months, I challenged myself to not shit in a portajohn. I made it eight months and 27 days and then got trapped in a spot where the only option was a portajohn. Four fucking days. I mean, I'd walk 500 meters to shit on a hardstand shitter. Four fucking days.

Next time, the record is mine.

 

Just did the opposite of home bowl: stall at Penn Station. Just awful stench when I walked into the stall. Had to shit though. I left the stall in much worse shape. Pity the dude who followed me.

 

Have no issues wherever/whenever. When it's time to go, I go.

Best story I have to offer was a few years back at the Great Taste of the Midwest Festival in Madison, WI (a truly epic beer fest, BTW, one that true beer lovers need to attend; Mrs. Fly and I are attending for the 12th time this coming Saturday). One of my online beer buddies from western Canada (Kelowna, BC area) came in for the fest and we were standing next to each other waiting to use the porta-johns during the day. Each of us had one person in front of them while we chatted, waiting our turn. Then I notice the wobbly dude in front of my friend had a wonderful brown stream running down the back of his leg. I told my buddy to watch his step - dude shit his pants literally ten seconds before the porta-john was available. Good times, indeed.

 

Ever drop a deuce at the Windsor Arena or St. Mike's? I was afraid to piss in the Barn and encountered at last overflowing can at St. Mike's.