Jan-u-rawr.

There's a certain element of danger when pushing open the door on a public bathroom stall.

I always use extreme caution when performing this act, as if on the bomb squad team during a terrorism attack. Really, you never know what might be waiting for you on the other side of the aluminum partition. This is true of every public washroom from here to Omaha and it doesn't matter how fancy a place might be, at least one woman will have had explosive diarrhea that absolutely could not wait until she was safe at home.

Funny how it is that this same woman constantly forgets to flush it on down when she's finished rocketing last night's dinner out of her sphincter. I'm all for saving water and trees, but the lack of a wipe/flush just stands out as poor hygiene habits and an absence of courtesy and consideration for woman-kind.

There is also, of course, the unending tradition of the "pee on the seat" gals, who I imagine are some sort of barbarian tribe that stalk from gas station to gas station, refusing to use the protective sheet. They insist: "No, it's okay - I can hover perfectly centered above the toilet seat." I imagine these are the same woman who fucking flip when they realize that while their aim was true, it was not accurate enough and they now have their bladder's contents streaming down their inner thighs.

I must bring to your attention, too, the winged bandit and the tampon monster, who will intentionally aggravate fellow ladies by leaving more personal bits of themselves floating in the bowl. They are among the same species of women who, again, refuse to flush it down. Of course every other woman wants to know that you're on track with your menstrual cycle. That makes just makes sense!*

There is the rare occasion that an empty and somewhat sanitary-looking porcelain throne can be found and will be chosen to fulfill it's destiny as a toilet for you. Even then, perched pigeon-toed and demure, tinkling into the potty, does danger persist. If you're not immediately disgusted by the all-too candid stall graffiti (ex. Chelsea sucks dick for meth; Tiffany likes it in her ass and has herpes; I fucked your dad in here), you might be shocked to overhear the bodily functions of the chica next to you.
Better yet, that same chica might attempt conversation with you. For these women, the public toilet stall is like the confessional booth or a sort of anonymous advice column. I've had some of the most interesting of my life in bathrooms.

Example 1:
(at a shopping mall in Seattle)
Youngish-Sounding Girl: "Excuse me; do you think you could pass me some toilet paper? I've used all the paper in here."
Me: "Oh, that sucks. Here, no problem." (hands substantial wad)
Y-S Girl: "Yeah, thanks. Geez, I think I might have just miscarried."
Me: "Oh..wow. Are you okay?"
Y-S Girl: "Yeah, actually; I'm really happy about it."

Example 2:
(Starbucks bathroom)
Woman: "Hey, could I ask you something?"
Me: "Sure."
Woman: "What do you think of these shoes?" (puts her foot under; they're hideous)
Me: "They're pretty cute."
Woman: "You're wrong; they're sexy! Duh."

These are the same women who will leave promptly post-discussion, seldom washing their hands. Or if they do, they're the type that get grossed out by the door handle on the bathroom's door (go figure), and will touch it only with a paper towel, dropping it behind the door on their way out. I hate those bitches.

I suppose the whole truth about people is half unveiled in the stall, its entrance like the doors to a Narnia of farting enigmas. Such wondrous revelations I highly doubt are simply stumbled upon in the male-version of the public toilet - everyone already knows that men can be disgusting. I guess I am a bit biased, because other than my few experiences with co-ed facilities, I've never really been into a guy's bathroom. I think it might be time for a little investigative research, y'know? Wait, that's not like, illegal, is it?

*still indicates obvious sarcasm.