But just down the street lingers this Del Taco, infamous for it's exterior (former gas station?) bathroom which requires a quarter to enter. Yes, you pay for the privilege of seeing a restroom that rivals the squat-holes of eastern European train stations. This place was so bad that the flies were gagging. I wondered what would possess not the first person not to flush, but the 2nd, 6th or 8th. As the excrement piled up, surely there must have been the temptation to relieve the porcelain of its burden. Or maybe the fear (my case) was greater that one tap on the malfunctioning handle would bring forth a foul flood, and then the attentions of the staff who would probably blame the unlucky flusher for deposits beyond anything but a pachyderm.
Until we can keep a restroom clean amongst us all, is there really any hope for cleaning up the rest of the world?
Now get back to your best aim on your writing.