Have you ever been sitting on the can in a public restroom, peacefully enjoying your solitude, when all of a sudden the bathroom door swings open and a whole crowd of people come in? Doesn’t that piss you off? You kind of like to be alone and do your business, so to speak, without the element of pressure or hurriedness. In relation to that, if – for some reason – you cannot be alone in the bathroom, the only element that somehow comforts you, is the privacy you attain by the enclosure of your stall. And the security you feel in that privacy is the simple twist lock that keeps the door from swinging open.
If, however, this lock is compromised, all security, privacy, and comfort flee in an instant, as you are left fumbling to cover yourself as a stranger attempts to enter your stall. This happened to me.
Dude pulls the door open without regard to reason, and I’m sitting there bare ass on the commode wondering what the hell he thinks he’s looking at. Isn’t there a reason people close these doors? Or from his perspective – isn’t there a reason this door is closed? Probably not. Unless he just likes to look at dicks. I usually examine the stall slightly before I go opening doors, myself. If the door is closed, that should be clue number one. There are cracks you can glance at, and – seeing darkness behind them – know someone is occupying said stall. This idiot refused all logic though, and went straight for the gold. Thank God I wasn’t spankin’ it. This time.
So I look up at him, as I don’t embarrass easily, and say, “Is there something I can do for you?” What confused me though, is that this dude actually waited for me to start talking, then waited for me to finish my sentence, then waited to answer me before he finally closed the door. Isn’t this a bit excessive? If I accidentally pull the door on someone, I have it shut before they even have a chance to make eye contact! That wasn’t the case. Dude answers me shakily, “Oh, sorry.” And closes the door.
Well, butter boy, I hope you liked what you saw. And if you’re going to make it a habit to go peeking at unsuspecting shitters, you should at least have the moxy to cough up a more reasonable answer, like “Nah, just makin’ sure you’re all right in there,” or “Yeah, you almost done in here, chief? I really need to shit.”