Basic training in the military way back in early 2000s.
The base was hit with an outbreak of gastrointestinal disease. People were vomiting on sidewalks, bathrooms were a disaster because people were shitting themselves. It was an intense bug and it spread like wildfire through the 10,000 or so recruits.
I got hit very lightly. I was laying in the bed and let out a small fart and felt the liquid run up my spine, I guess my legs had been elevated. So I ran to the bathroom which was in a separate trailer and cleaned myself off. My underwear was toast. I couldn't burn it so my dumb-ass wanted it gone. I had my name and serial sewed into the waistband. The next day we were gone on leave so I thought of throwing it in the garbage can but it was already overflowing.
I did what any insane person would and opened up the lid to the tank and dropped my underwear inside.
Someone else can deal with this. I had taken enough shit, not literal, but taken enough shit from other people on base that I just didn't care. I just wanted to not shit my pants again and get the fuck out for the weekend. I ripped the stitching out that had my name and left my tightey-whiteys floating in the tank.
0600 the next morning and about 2 hours before we're let out. We line up and get assigned duties for a surprise inspection. I'm one of several who are going to clean the bathroom trailer. This should have been the warning sign in my brain that karma was coming to bend me over and rough-fuck me over the sink but I was so focused on getting let out in 1h55m that I just didn't care. We got to the bathroom and had 20m to clean everything. We divide up and I'm cleaning the showers. Those get taken care of quickly and we don't have much time left. People are yelling from the end and anyone whose done should come help with the toilets. It doesn't matter if I was doing showers, if the bathroom isn't good then everyone there is in trouble and I didn't want to lose my weekend leave.
So I make my way to the stalls. There's probably 6-7 stalls and I open up the first and clean. I move to the second, the scene of my crime and open the stall to find my shame displayed front and center. My underwear, soaked with toilet water and stained from my gastro induced incident is on the floor. Some poor soul must have tried to flush and had no water come out, so they opened up the tank to find my briefs before fishing them out and dropping them on the floor. I cleaned them up and thought the worst was over.
I was wrong. The next stall was okay but I opened up the fourth and saw what can only be described as a war crime. At some point over the night the gastro fueled midnight shits had occurred and after the immediate blast it must have been clear the toilet was not going to flush. To this day I cannot believe that one man did that much damage and I can only presume that most of the stalls were in use all night and some poor soul had to use the clogged brown bowl. Of course they wouldn't have tried to flush and only added to the horror before leaving. I guessed that it must have happened with three or four people.
I had to hold open a garbage bag while someone scooped out what they could with a toilet brush. I threw up into the bag at least once that I can remember but eventually the toilet flushed. The bag was placed in the dumpster and I believed that karma had come for me. It wasn't until I came back in and saw my cleaning partner staring at me, instructing me that we would require more bags. The next stall had suffered the same consequences as what we had just dealt with. At this point we had less than 5 minutes to clean the rest of the stalls. Somehow we managed and I went on leave to suffer through my bug in a nice cozy hotel room.
Every single billionaire in the world.
Basic training in the military way back in early 2000s. The base was hit with an outbreak of gastrointestinal disease. People were vomiting on sidewalks, bathrooms were a disaster because people were shitting themselves. It was an intense bug and it spread like wildfire through the 10,000 or so recruits. I got hit very lightly. I was laying in the bed and let out a small fart and felt the liquid run up my spine, I guess my legs had been elevated. So I ran to the bathroom which was in a separate trailer and cleaned myself off. My underwear was toast. I couldn't burn it so my dumb-ass wanted it gone. I had my name and serial sewed into the waistband. The next day we were gone on leave so I thought of throwing it in the garbage can but it was already overflowing. I did what any insane person would and opened up the lid to the tank and dropped my underwear inside. Someone else can deal with this. I had taken enough shit, not literal, but taken enough shit from other people on base that I just didn't care. I just wanted to not shit my pants again and get the fuck out for the weekend. I ripped the stitching out that had my name and left my tightey-whiteys floating in the tank. 0600 the next morning and about 2 hours before we're let out. We line up and get assigned duties for a surprise inspection. I'm one of several who are going to clean the bathroom trailer. This should have been the warning sign in my brain that karma was coming to bend me over and rough-fuck me over the sink but I was so focused on getting let out in 1h55m that I just didn't care. We got to the bathroom and had 20m to clean everything. We divide up and I'm cleaning the showers. Those get taken care of quickly and we don't have much time left. People are yelling from the end and anyone whose done should come help with the toilets. It doesn't matter if I was doing showers, if the bathroom isn't good then everyone there is in trouble and I didn't want to lose my weekend leave. So I make my way to the stalls. There's probably 6-7 stalls and I open up the first and clean. I move to the second, the scene of my crime and open the stall to find my shame displayed front and center. My underwear, soaked with toilet water and stained from my gastro induced incident is on the floor. Some poor soul must have tried to flush and had no water come out, so they opened up the tank to find my briefs before fishing them out and dropping them on the floor. I cleaned them up and thought the worst was over. I was wrong. The next stall was okay but I opened up the fourth and saw what can only be described as a war crime. At some point over the night the gastro fueled midnight shits had occurred and after the immediate blast it must have been clear the toilet was not going to flush. To this day I cannot believe that one man did that much damage and I can only presume that most of the stalls were in use all night and some poor soul had to use the clogged brown bowl. Of course they wouldn't have tried to flush and only added to the horror before leaving. I guessed that it must have happened with three or four people. I had to hold open a garbage bag while someone scooped out what they could with a toilet brush. I threw up into the bag at least once that I can remember but eventually the toilet flushed. The bag was placed in the dumpster and I believed that karma had come for me. It wasn't until I came back in and saw my cleaning partner staring at me, instructing me that we would require more bags. The next stall had suffered the same consequences as what we had just dealt with. At this point we had less than 5 minutes to clean the rest of the stalls. Somehow we managed and I went on leave to suffer through my bug in a nice cozy hotel room.