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Courtesy Flush

“Sh*t. Damnit.” Words from the stall next to me. Now I wish I hadn’t stuck myself here.

The bathroom near the lab has 3 stalls and the next nearest bathroom is on a different floor. I walked in this afternoon, and found myself in a dilemma. Two stalls were occupied. Naturally, the stall in between the two was empty. Rather than walk up a flight of stairs to the next bathroom, I grew some balls and dove in.

Before I even shut the door the aroma blast hit me. Rather than disrespect my fellow toilet-mates, I shut the stall door behind me and proceeded to get down to business.

The guy on my left was done within a minute of my sitting, but the musk cloud was still there. He didn’t wash his hands. FML.

The guy on the right was rolling up toilet paper, hopefully prepared to finish up. He pulled up his pants, and paused. 5 seconds later, “Sh*t. Damnit.” Honestly, what could go wrong? Did he do something out of order? Forget to wipe? He then sat back down, apparently he wasn’t done.

Fast forward 5 minutes. I washed my hands, was ready to leave, but then remembered that GuyOnMyLeft didn’t wash his hands. I had to leave through the door that GuyOnMyLeft had probably thoroughly fondled on his way out.

Number Fifteen: Bathroom Courtesy.

Come on guys. Common sense.

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