I guess it was, to an extent. I didn't almost die this time, or anything like that, but...
Well, anyways, I went into the bathroom. I was following this guy who had a fairly typical homeless-guy look to him. You know the one - carrying a weird box, clothes dirty and worn out and not matching, a whole crapload of layers, mostly inappropriate, etc. He was walking slowly, and when I got into the bathroom I was assaulted with the smell of, well, the sort of thing you'd expect in a bathroom where flushing is a rarity. I realized, though, with a jolt, that the smell was coming from him - right when I saw the shiny wet brown streak dribbling down the back of his pants. I'm glad I didn't brush past him on the way in.
The guy at the stall next to me was apparently having some sort of affair with the urinal; his whole body, head to toes, was pressed as close to the wall and urinal as possible. I'm not entirely sure what he was doing, hopefully just pissing, but apparently he never had a mommy to tell him that public bathroom urinals are not something you want to rub your body against. I suppose maybe in an upscale public men's room that wouldn't be so disgusting, but it's a fucking bus station.
So, no physical damage this time, but my psyche has been scarred.