Whether you are taking a nice long shit in the comfort of your own home. While the walls are melting in fractal patterns, or frantically trying to exorcise that foodbaby that has lodged itself in your colon, on a festival port-a-potty, while peaking on MDMA, shitting while on drugs is always an unique experience. You are alone with nothing but a large clump of excrement exiting your backdoor, eyes as dilated as your anal sphincter, and a small cubicle that is to be the theatre of war for the battle that is about to commence. Your thoughts are racing already, for good or bad, for in this moment you are truly alone. You might be able to hear the distant thumping of bass, or the poop grunts of adjacent toilet-goers, but they are far away, unable to reach you in your now smelly sanctuary. Your pants are down around your ankles, usually you would take some care to make sure they dont come into contact with the brown water soaked floor, but at this moment, you do not care. You look up at the door in front of you, it is decorated by the memoires of the faceless hundreds who have pooped here before you. Some are funny, some are smart, most are stupid. If you are tripping, you find yourself unable to decipher whether they are incomprehensible because they are written in the hip-hop-esque calligraphy that so often adorns any surface bereft of constant adult supervision, or because the letters are dancing around in a slow breathing waltz, unable to find their anchorhold in reality. You gasp. It has begun. Far tougher than you had imagined, the first push brings with it a light sweat on your forehead, a heat inside your body, and a focus point. Your attention has planted it's foot squarely on the task ahead, the thoughts that were previously storm-like in nature, brushing sides with every conceivable topic: The girl, the friends, the night ahead and the night passed by, your life, maybe even your death, have now found a point of focus. "This is it" you hear yourself thinking, you heave, every muscle is tense, but you cannot keep going like this. As you relax, a nice short log plops into the toilet below you. The second wave is harder, but you are ready for it, brace for the G's, fast hold-release work. The eruption is muffled by the intense feeling in your body, as an avalanche of brown matter shoots out of your anus, sputtering onto the sides of the bowl, but luckily missing your exposed and clenched buttocks. You realize you have been holding your breath, and relax, taking a few well earned huffs of air.That was the hard part, now, your leisurely push out the last pieces of resistance, each plop brings with it a short surge of ecstacy. You are almost drenched in sweat, you take your time to wipe, maybe you even sit for a while and contemplate. When you are ready, you pull up your pants and walk out the door, a hero.