Bookstores: the natural laxative?

My cow-workers and I have often wondered why people feel comfortable settling in with the newspaper in the store bathroom for a nice, long dump. (Note: this is almost always the Men's room.)

OK. It's not exactly Topic A around the lunch table, but the question does come up when: 1) one of us has to "glove up and go in" to clean up after some omnidirectional shitter, and/or 2) the smell wafts unmistakably out over the reference section. Doesn't one naturally assume that people are more comfortable crapping in the privacy of their own homes? Apparently not.

And I believe I have stumbled across the answer here.