I have to confess: I'm afraid of public restrooms.
I'm not afraid of being attacked by a rapist or mugger in one (though holy CRAP would that suck). No, I'm afraid of ghosts.
Not the usual ghosts, either. No cute l'il floating sheets, no little white blobs named Casper. I'm thinking more of The Eye, Ring, Silent Hill type ghosts. As I sit, trying desperately to pee, I keep thinking, what happens if I see some bare feet in the bathroom? What if they come toward me? But not walking or anything, instead, it's more like dragging; the toes curled under, nails broken and dirty, as the mottled, gray, lesioned flesh scraaaaaapes across the tiles toward where my poor butt is naked and defenseless?
What would you do? Scream? But then it knows for sure that you're in there. Can't make any noise; this is classic monster under the bed territory, here-- it can't attack you until you acknowledge it.
Would you open the stall door, and bolt for freedom? But then you've seen it, and it's seen you, and now it's real, it's not something potential, it is something actualized, and there is now no way to avoid it. For some reason I can never imagine a face or form as terrible to see as those two, disembodied feet, waiting for me.
It makes it really, really hard to pee.