Walking into that bathroom was a near-death experience. An odor that was not of this earth was EVERYWHERE. I couldn't tell which stall it was coming from, I couldn't tell how long it had been since someone had committed the act ... all I could think about was that I only had an estimated two minutes to live.
I darted into one of the stalls with my hand over my mouth and nose and tried to quickly pull my pants down, piss, wipe, and exit the stall using only my left hand. The one-handed thing really shaved valuable seconds off my time. By the time I reached the sink, I was gagging uncontrollably. My friends were too, and I could hear Sarah puking her guts out in the far stall.
Washing my hands was torture since I had to use both of them, which took away my somewhat protective barrier for my mouth and nose. In the corner of the bathroom, a restaurant employee was standing there staring at us as if we had all gone crazy. Did she not smell it? Was she used to it? Was she a freak who somehow enjoyed that smell?
But then it hit me ...
IT WAS HER!!!!
She was standing there, the woman who has completely destroyed the ladies' room, watching us all suffer, and probably really enjoying it. I wanted to say something to her, but I was afraid of opening my mouth and somehow tasting the smell. So, I shot her a glare that hopefully said, "You should probably be in a hospital if your body is capable of this, you horrible, probably-diseased bitch!"
We made a mad dash for the car, and once outside we all gasped for the "fresh" air (come on, it's Jersey) and started loudly complaining about the situation. We were doing this as customers were walking into the restaurant, and we probably drove away a good amount of business during those few minutes. Here is what potential diners heard:
Me: It didn't even seem human!
Sarah: I couldn't take it; I knew I was going to puke.
Lydia: It was like a raccoon died and then DEFECATED on itself!!!
I will continue to have nightmares about this for some time. Yikes.