I don't know how many threads this topic has had, but it is an old problem here. There are some funny stories about it.
I was working in Florida as a financial analyst, and since I have very regular bowels never needed to use the stalls in the restroom. Once in the morning after first coffee and I am good till the next day. Germanic predictability.
But, one day I ate in the canteen downstairs and was dismayed to find myself with a revolt in my guts, a serious insurrection of spoiled hot dog type.
I went into the men's room on the floor where my office was at a brisk clip, which had about 6 stalls along the wall, 4 urinals and three sinks along the other, with a shower room in the back, I doubt that it was ever used. I went in and grabbed the first stall though the place appeared to be empty to my great good fortune, and unbuckled, unzipped, unbuttoned (we wore suits) and one hand grabbed my tie to keep it from getting pissed on, the other lifted the shirt tail to keep it from being shat on, and sat, pretty much in that order and in record time. A blur of movement really.
What I did not know was that there was about 3 inches of clearance from the surface of the water to the seat of the toilet. The head of my penis and a couple inches more to boot went right in for a disgusting little swim. I jumped up and sort of screamed, in a manly way, something like FUUUUUCCCKKK! That water is cold, what idiot made this stupid piece of shit? Jesus Fucking Christ!
Well, I got over the shock and went on to successfully relieve myself, and got all zipped and buttoned and tucked and belted, and went to the sink to wash up when my boss walked in, no big deal, but as I was leaving a stall door in the middle of the row opened. I just caught it out of the corner of my eye so I don't know who it was, and I did not hang out in the hall to find out, just went on with life.
I had not heard anybody else in my trauma and bustle and gassy episode, but the next week I was waiting for the elevator and when it arrived at my floor I moved to the side like a gentleman should, and the doors opened. Inside my boss was saying to someone I could not see that "...He must have a pair of socks in his pants." THEN he noticed me standing there and he got flustered and turned quite red in the face. He never treated me the same again. We had a casual Friday policy and I wore jeans on those days, never gave a thought to how well they showed basket really, they were just jeans. I am sure the suits never gave me away.
The point of the story? ALWAYS, always look before sitting on a toilet, unless you are in grand central station where you would NEVER sit on a toilet anyway, even if the homeless did not think of them as their "midtown" condo.
