This is why it's always better to just wait for one of the urinals to open up. Venture into a stall at a rock show and you never know what the fuck you're going to see. Is that someone's shirt in there? How does that even happen?
This photo is a perfect metaphor for what Lit's like sometimes: A turd on the edge of the toilet seat of your otherwise perfect night. (Hmmm...maybe this comparison would make more sense if the toilet wasn't also filled with vomit. Gross).
