In a dimly lit, tiled room, three men stand in a loose circle, their faces a mix of relief and concentration. The first man, a burly, tattooed fellow, unzips his fly, and a powerful arc of urine jets out, splashing onto the cold floor. The second, a lanky, bearded man, follows suit, his stream steady and strong. The third, a muscular, tanned man, takes his time, enjoying the anticipation before unleashing a torrent that threatens to overshoot the others. The room fills with the sound of rushing liquid and the faint scent of ammonia.