One night after having taking a few Percocet (I was in my early 20s hard drug experimentation phase and had swiped them from my mom who hated using them for nerve pain in her feet) a few friends and I went to a local McDonalds. At this point I'm experiencing some mild nausea, as I had whenever I was coming up on opiates, figuring it would subside, we order some food and sit down with our tickets. A few minutes later my stomach is a lot worse and I high tail it to the bathroom an older Hispanic employee had just cleaned. This was the night I discovered just how well vomit can serve as a projectile.

I made it to the stall for the first round, vomiting more violently than I ever had in my life into that porcelain receptacle. It was when I got up, thinking I was done, to wash my hands that the real horror stuck. As soon as I stepped out of the stall a steam of vomit erupted from my mouth down the hallway from the stall to the bathroom door, I turned around to go towards the sink to wash up but another torrent freed itself and covered one side of the sink with vomit. I clean myself up as best I can, move around the river in the bathroom to get back to our table, and go up to the woman who had cleaned the bathroom and say "I am so so so sorry. I know you just cleaned that bathroom. I uncontrollably just vomited all over it." I don't know if she understood what I said, but I went back to my table and saw her put on her coat and leave the store.

While we were eating (I guess the opiates had kicked in) a man pulled up into the parking lot, came into the store and immediately went into the bathroom. A few seconds later he came out, left the restaurant, got back in his car, and drove away. We left shortly after. I'll never know what poor son of a bitch had to deal with that mess but I am eternally grateful and regularly feel guilty about it till this day.

TLDR; as a degenerate, I apologize on the behalf of degenerates for making the life of poorly paid food industry workers hell