I am in Pittsburgh doing some errands for work, one stop was the Dept of Revenue office. I needed to use the restroom before I left so I asked if a public facility was nearby, "Just down the hall to the right", I was told. The halls in this building are quiet, so quiet that my sneakers sounded like stacked pumps as I walked down the hall to the right.
I am in the stall, doing the things you do there. Upon completion of the tasks, I reach for the tissue and notice that a nearly empty roll is laying atop the fixture. I am someone who uses all of the tissue on a roll, so I pick it up, place two of my fingers inside the paper tube to help unravel the tissue. As I make my first revolution around the partial roll, I sneeze. I reflexively bring the hand with the tissue on it toward my mouth, in so doing, I knock the paper tube off my other hand. The tube hits the floor flat, right in front of my feet and promptly rolls under the stall door out into the public restroom!!
I look down at the tissue lying on the floor, like a "white carpet" path out of the stall and I begin to laugh, out loud. What are the chances of that roll hitting perfectly flat on the floor and without so much as a whisper of wind, roll under the door and out of the stall?
Still seated and needing tissue, I compose myself and gently tug on the tissue, hoping to pull the roll back into the stall. It does not work, it does the exact opposite by unrolling more tissue, which moves the roll further away from the stall door. I can't help myself, I begin to laugh again. I laugh long enough to bring tears to my eyes and loud enough perhaps, in the funeral home like silence of the halls, to draw a crowd to the restroom door entrance. I'm laughing again right now, it's still funny.
Anyway, reality comes to my rescue. I realize there is tissue on the roll in the fixture, I take some, do the appropriate hygiene and exit the stall. I gather up the runaway roll, dispose of it, wash my hands, peak my head out the door, discover the coast is clear and run out of the building.
I hope your mind's eye can see (don't look at me!) a version of what I saw and laugh and not be offended by too much information.