With careful observation you can learn a lot about a total stranger in just a few moments. A public men’s room is the perfect place where each personality type shows his true colors. If a psych student ever needed a research paper idea, this has to be it. Here are a few types we’ve spotted:

The Introvert. Walks into the men’s room and looks around. If anyone is in there, The Introvert will leave and return later, hoping to have the place all to himself. The Introvert possesses superb self-control, capable of waiting hours until the coast is clear. He doesn’t want anyone anywhere near him when he needs to take a leak. He never uses the urinal and will stealthily pee while sitting down in the farthest stall from the door. If someone enters the next stall, The Introvert will continually flush the shitter to cover his sounds.

The Narcissist. The polar opposite of The Introvert, The Narcissist is all about being noticed - everywhere he goes. He will strut right in like a barnyard rooster and spend several minutes in front of the mirror, primping and preening. Once his hair is positioned flawlessly, The Narcissist may actually use the bathroom facilities (if he isn’t so self-absorbed that he forgets his original objective), then finish the ritual with more primping before he walks out the door. You may see him exit with a tail of toilet paper hanging out the back of his pants.

The Motivational Speaker. Walks up to the urinal right next to someone else and chats the poor guy’s ear off for the 30-or-so seconds he spends there. By the time The Motivational Speaker has drained his main vein, he will endeavor to learn the name, occupation, and half the life history of everyone in the men’s room. Occasionally gets beaten up trying this in bar bathrooms.

The Modest Mouse. Stands at the stall and tries to pee. He really tries. But nothing happens. After 3 or 4 anxious minutes of just standing there, The Modest Mouse will nervously zip it up and leave, his face beet-red with humiliation.

The Cowboy. Brash, uncouth and uninhibited (and generally clueless), The Cowboy will swagger into the restroom, step up to the nearest urinal, whip it out and pee all over his feet.

The Obsessive-Compulsive. Walks in, grabs a wad of paper towels, wets them in the sink and scrubs the shitter so clean you could serve punch in it. Takes a dump and uses a full roll of paper wiping his ass. A quadruple-flusher. Spends ten minutes washing his hands, walks out, then walks back in to wash his hands once more - just in case.

The Showman. Inebriated, The Showman staggers in with some equally-inebriated white trash barfly in tow. Enters a stall with his “special guest” and unwittingly provides several minutes of free entertainment for the cheering crowd gathering by the sinks.

The Emo. Brooding and moping, The Emo will shuffle in the door, his head down, eyes glued to the floor and muttering something to himself. Selecting the farthest urinal in the row, The Emo will simply look down and sob while relieving himself. The Emo can’t wait to get out the door and back to someplace dark.

The Alzheimer. Will walk into the restroom, stop, look around and forget what he came in for. Then walk back out and piss and/or crap his pants.

The Slob. Usually some…uh…”rotund” person with oily, unkempt hair, dressed in sweat pants and an undersized t-shirt that doesn’t stay tucked in. The Slob walks in, hawks up a big lung-cookie and launches it toward the sink, usually missing his target. While whizzing, The Slob will scratch his ass, let out a big fart, exclaiming “ahhh, that sure felt good!” Maybe do a farmer blow into the urinal, again missing his target with half of it splattering across the front of his shirt. Finishes up and exits without washing his hands, heading straight back to the restaurant kitchen.