I’ve always pooped at work—but then I’ve always been the guy who cleaned the bathroom. People wanted to use the toilet when I was finished. If you saw me going toward the john with a roll of paper towel, a newspaper, and a spray bottle of cleanser, you knew two things: I was cleaning the head—and using it. Ever since then, I’ve “owned” the bathroom at every workplace I ever inhabited—marking my territory … with cleanliness.
—Anonymous, Michigan
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I have been a very shy person all my life and no matter what the situation is I can count the number of times I have used a public restroom. I will drive all the way home for an hour, if I have to, in order to be able to use my bathroom. I think it’s the noise of bodily functions that makes me get embarrassed.
—Oscar, 48
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If you’re on a COP (combat outpost) they have these things called wag bags. You Basically put a trash bag over a hole cut in a piece of wood, sit on the hole, do your biz, tie up the bag, and throw it into a burn pit. You also piss into a piss tube that protrudes two feet out of the ground. On the bigger bases they have Porta-Potties, but in 2004 we were getting shelled regularly, so you’d run out and the thing would be riddled with shrapnel from previous blasts. You did your biz really, really fast and got out of there.
—Anonymous, war correspondent
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There is no specific medical issue with stool being in the colon for too long, although the consequences of constipation are significant. The distention of the colon can lead to unnecessary medical expenses: trips to the emergency room for abdominal pain, which leads to a CT scan with the only diagnosis of “colon full of stool.” It may even lead to the need for urinary drainage via a catheter, as constipation is a risk factor for urinary retention. If stool backs up too far, it can give you really bad breath.
—Stephen Siegel, M.D.
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I’m a runner. I’ve pooped in half of Baltimore County, and mostly on Sundays—that’s “long-run day.” I’ve pooped in woods, or on a trail, or whatever. But bushes in large yards or on college campuses work too. Cleanup is easy: the ol’ sock trick—socks (plural) if necessary, but one usually does it. My old roommates caught on to my ways and would check my feet when I got home from running. One sock on, one sock off meant that some shit went down. No, I don’t need special conditions. I just need socks.
—Gary, business consultant, Baltimore
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When we were kids, I often thought my brother would explode like a blood-filled tick, his body bursting with backed-up stool as he raced from the school bus to the bathroom we shared in our childhood home. He was willing to chance permanent damage to his colon rather than drop a dooker at school. He preferred the cozy privacy of our home bathroom over the door-less stalls at the school; he sought the peace of mind that came with a clean toilet seat rather than the cold fear of wondering whether you had wiped away the piss residue and potential STDs that surely greased the surface of the high school bathroom toilet lid.
I, on the other hand, had fewer reservations. It wasn’t as if I particularly enjoyed taking a dump in public places, but rather I viewed it for what it was: a biological necessity.
It is a trend I’ve carried with me as I’ve eased into middle age. I’ve gone in the bathrooms at shopping malls and grocery stores; sports stadiums and sports bars; Porta-Potties, and, on some truly desperate occasions, behind bushes and trees. Like most civilized people, I prefer the familiarity of my own loo, a Golf Digest at the ready, perhaps a candle burning to comfort the senses. On the weekends, a cup of strong coffee may steam in a cup on the vanity next to me while the remainders of the day steam beneath me. On those days, though, a 2-year-old is frequently interrupting me, pounding on the door before opening it to see if I’m done. “Whatchoo doing, Daddy?” he inquires suspiciously. I prefer to think of it as a teaching moment, since we’re potty-training him at the moment. My wife often shoos him away with a gentle request to “give Daddy some privacy.” And he’s learned. Often he’ll ask us, as he sits perched upon his child-sized toilet seat affixed to our own throne, to give him some privacy. Life’s lessons are learned early.
At work I often have to have a morning constitutional, followed by a quick perusal. I’m a two-flush man—better the embarrassment of dual flushing than of searching for the office plunger. It’s an especially touchy ritual, given that I work in an office with 10 women and I have to traverse the length of the complex in order to go. It’s the walk of shame of corporate America. But once again, it all comes back to my philosophy that it’s better to go than to try to fight nature. My colon, hopefully, will repay the favor someday and spare me the need for Metamucil or colorectal surgery. My brother, on the other hand … well, that’s between him and his guts.
—Scott, marketing communications, Port St. Lucie, Florida
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I actually poop in the woods at work. It’s far preferable to just about any public facility I’ve been in.
—Steve, wilderness guide, Massachusetts
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I used to be very cautious about where I poop. Couldn’t go in restaurants, malls, or at work. I could only poop in my own house in a safe, quiet environment. It wasn’t until I got a job as a videographer for a zero-budget travel show that took me to various countries in Asia that made me realize that if ya gotta go, it doesn’t matter where, how clean or private, just so long as it flushes. God help you if it doesn’t flush. The things I’ve seen … the horror. Also, pooping in the Japanese floor toilets … just impossible.
—Kevin, videographer, Norwood, Massachusetts
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Thanks, Tom. Hilarious and wonderfully enlightening. I have often wondered how some people can just drop trou and let it rip no matter where they are (my home, for instance) or who is in the next room. To me, it is an endearing quality, to be admired, and I admit jealousy.
One time when we were teenagers, my cousins and I were on a camping trip and talk turned to toilet paper substitutes. The question was, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used for toilet paper. The usual things were thrown out by most of us… paper, paper money, leaves, that sort of thing. And then my cousin Jason said “rocks.” We all started laughing and couldn’t stop laughing while he tried to explain himself: “You know, the smooth ones you find in a creek bed…” Also, I have it on good authority that Alan Bean went all the way to… Read more »
I ABSOLUTELY LOVE LOVE LOVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some would say I have an unhealthy obsession with bowel movements, I say I’m just a mom making sure my family (including pets) are healthy. My motto: farts=funny therefore poop=hilarious!!!!!!!!!!! A friend of mine turned me on to your article because she knows of my poop fascination. I’m perpetually constipated so I am absurdly jealous of anyone’s (especially my boyfriend’s) ability to poop anywhere at any time. Thanks for the great laugh and for showing your appreciation of poop;) lol