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About 8 years ago I was travelling on the famed "fuck-the-NY residents" Pay-until-you-die I-90 NY Thruway. The one good thing that they did (after announcing that even though the road was paid for, the tolls would remain) was to tear down all the disgusting HoJo's at every rest stop, and build nice shiny, modern places with yummy franchise junk food like Duncan Dognuts, Booger King, etc.
credit given to original author if known
The restrooms were state of the art as well. The urinals were of the Autoflush(tm) variety. I had run into them in airports before, but they had yet to widely proliferate at this point in history. Being in the data acquisition/sensor field myself, I was pretty impressed with them. I assume there is an IR sensor in there, and it detects a presence in front of it. When the heat signature drops quicky (you walk away) it decides you're done and flushes. I was draining Mr. Fuzzy, as was a gentleman standing to my immediate right. About six urinals down to the left, was a man and his son. The boy was probably 12 years old. The IR sensors on these pisportals were about mid-chest height on me, and I'm 6'1".
Anaylizing the events later. I determined that Junior was *just* tall enough to tease the sensor, and flip it back and fourth over the detection threshold. We were all merrily pissing away, when Junior's urinal suddenly flushes. He *jumps* back fast, pants down, and lets out a little shriek of surprise. "I didn't know it would do that!!!" he yells at his father. Dad tries to calm him down "It's okay...they flush automatically". Boy responds, sounding shocked that the urinal would pull such a trick on him. "Well, I didn't know it would do that....".
I quietly chuckle a bit, what a spastic little asshole. Junior recovers, returns to the urinal, and resumes pissing. Five seconds later, it flushes again. This time he screams, hysterical. "IT SCARED ME, I DIDN"T THINK IT WOULD IT AGAIN!!!". Dad seems to know how the devices work. He holds his hand over the sensor, and promises Junior that it won't flush again. Pissboy looks down and makes a startling discovery. "MY PANTS ARE WET!!!!!". He screams. I assume he doesn't mean with water. By now, I'm really having trouble not exploding. I go into full laugh-supression mode. That means I chew on the inside of my cheek or tongue, and summon fourth disturbing mental images (Rush Limbaugh masturbating, cooked Hiroshima survivors, being fellated by my grandmother....well that one wasn't so bad). It works for the moment, and I do not burst out. The guy next to me sounds like he's softly weeping. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, he's ready to burst. Our eyes meet for an instant, and we almost lose it. Littl
The guy next to me *runs* out of the room, never mind washing his hands, I don't think he put his choad back in his pants. He giggles out the door, and explodes into hysterical laughter out in hall. I am chewing on my tongue to retain control, drawing blood, visuallizing that vasectomy operation I saw on TV. I would have ran out as well, but I figured in for a penny, in for a pound. And besides, I want to see how bad he wet himself. I was done pissing, but stood there, staring straight ahead as is SOP for urinal ettiquette. I pretended I was still going, so I could intercept them when they went to clean him up. I saw Dad keep checking up on me in my peripheral vision, hoping I would finish up and clear out so he could clean him up with a minimum of embarrasment.
Alas, I would not have it.
Finally, the soothing whispering stops, and he leads Junior to the sinks. Well, heh heh, guess I'm tapped out too. I zip up and head for the sinks. The urinal flushes behind me. I am not alarmed. I am mightily impressed with what I see. He must have been going full bore, and couldn't get the fire hose stopped for a good long time. He is wearing khaki pants, and nothing shows wetness like they do. All down one leg, goes the 2 inch wide stripe of piss. The cuffs show heavy splatter marks as well. His crotch area is wet through, big dark stain. I wash my hands, use plenty of soap, and do my best "Hawkeye scrubbing for surgery" impression that I can manage. Dad gets the water going and tries to rinse out his pants. Junior is just sniffing at this point, a beaten little dog. He contemplates the floor as Dad cleans him.
I had gotten the impression that the boy was emotionally disturbed, for a few reasons:
1) The over reaction to a glub-damned urinal flushing
2) The desperate tone in which he wailed
3) The father talking in such soothing coddling tones, and it sounded like he had *plenty* of experience.
4) The fact that Junior didn't immdiately know he pissed on himself
5) The Pro-tec helmet on his head (no, just kidding)
I meet up with my SR in the lobby, and relate the tale to her on the way down the road. It takes me fifteen minutes to tell the story because I can't stop laughing. I almost get us slammed by a rig. All I got was the typical female response:
A) You're a sick bastard to think that's funny. and
B) That poor, poor boy.