Today's
topic is public restroom etiquette. If you're not into that, then please stop
reading now. But it's on my mind because the problem described below,
whether through bad luck or bad timing, seems to follow me like a bad penny. I
keep running into it. And though I hate to be so obsessive-compulsively anal on
the subject, I feel something needs to be said.
We stopped into Carl's Jr the other day after church to get some lunch. But after the ritual Sunday morning shaking of hands, I wanted to wash up before eating. Of course, I'm sure the grease from Carl's extensive menu of stuff-that's-very-bad-for-you would be a sufficient to kill or maim the millions of microscopic organisms living on my hands. Nevertheless, I like to be as germ-free as possible before eating.
So as the lovely Amy got in line to order, I headed to the bathroom. When I arrived, the door was locked. Okay, no problem; there's no rush. But 2 minutes, then 3 minutes….then 4 minutes later, the door remained locked while whoever was in there continued doing God-knows-what. Meantime another dude entered the premises who was in a hurry to use the men's room, too. Walking past me as if I was invisible, he also tried the door handle and, like me, found his admittance delayed. The man was instantly annoyed and muttered a couple of curse words. I'd have been more sympathetic, but instead became doubly annoyed because I'd been annoyed first and longer and the guy hadn't even noticed. Acknowledging my presence at last, the latecomer excused himself under his breath and went to stand in line.
But I'm still on the clock and almost five minutes into my vigil, the mystery man in the men's room had yet to reveal himself and emerge. For a brief moment I thought maybe he was sick and passed out or something. Nope. I heard a cough followed by some other extraneous noises which indicated he was still with us, but hadn't fully completed the task at hand. Whatever, it wasn't going to be pretty.
Frustrated, I joined Amy at a table she'd settled at with our food. "Whoever's in there has been in there forever, and knowing what I know I don't wanna go in when he comes out. Do we have any lotion in the car?" Amy directed me to the front seat where I generously lathered up my hands and fingers in a glob of anti-bacterial hand soap. I smelled sanitized and sickly sweet, but at last could proceed to eat lunch.
I forgot about the guy in the toilet until after eating. Waterlogged with coffee from church and a big gulp of Carl's Jr. ice tea, I needed to pee. It wouldn't wait till home, and though I considered the possibility of something bad waiting on the other side, tried Carl's bathroom door again. It’d been 15 minutes and must’ve been okay to enter by now. And good news- this time it was unlocked. So I pushed the door in....and was immediately enveloped in the most toxic of toxic fumes.
The place reeked as if it'd been ground zero for an atomic stink bomb. Good grief, I had no idea one human being could produce such a formidable stench. I assumed the odor had been left behind by the gentlemen who'd camped out there earlier. And now he was either someplace in the restaurant eating with the rest of us--its alivvvvee- or had already fled the scene of his crime. Regardless, at that moment that particular bathroom was the most disgusting place on Earth. It was gross. Peeing as fast as I could, my nostrils begged for fresh air. When finished and still holding my breath, upon my escape I nearly busted the door down.
But I wondered why anybody would go into a public restroom and foul it up like that. I mean, I understand the call of nature; sometimes you're out and caught with a problem, and have nowhere to go except the nearest public place with indoor facilities. But c'mon. That guy died in there. There's no excuse for that. Hey, just because you ate several servings of rotting road-kill and messed up your intestinal tract at breakfast, don't take it out on the rest of us at lunchtime That's bad form; really nasty. Stop it.
Bottom line: stay home and stink up your own bathroom.
Okay, 'nuff said. Thanks for your patience. I feel so much better now that we've cleared the air.
We stopped into Carl's Jr the other day after church to get some lunch. But after the ritual Sunday morning shaking of hands, I wanted to wash up before eating. Of course, I'm sure the grease from Carl's extensive menu of stuff-that's-very-bad-for-you would be a sufficient to kill or maim the millions of microscopic organisms living on my hands. Nevertheless, I like to be as germ-free as possible before eating.
So as the lovely Amy got in line to order, I headed to the bathroom. When I arrived, the door was locked. Okay, no problem; there's no rush. But 2 minutes, then 3 minutes….then 4 minutes later, the door remained locked while whoever was in there continued doing God-knows-what. Meantime another dude entered the premises who was in a hurry to use the men's room, too. Walking past me as if I was invisible, he also tried the door handle and, like me, found his admittance delayed. The man was instantly annoyed and muttered a couple of curse words. I'd have been more sympathetic, but instead became doubly annoyed because I'd been annoyed first and longer and the guy hadn't even noticed. Acknowledging my presence at last, the latecomer excused himself under his breath and went to stand in line.
But I'm still on the clock and almost five minutes into my vigil, the mystery man in the men's room had yet to reveal himself and emerge. For a brief moment I thought maybe he was sick and passed out or something. Nope. I heard a cough followed by some other extraneous noises which indicated he was still with us, but hadn't fully completed the task at hand. Whatever, it wasn't going to be pretty.
Frustrated, I joined Amy at a table she'd settled at with our food. "Whoever's in there has been in there forever, and knowing what I know I don't wanna go in when he comes out. Do we have any lotion in the car?" Amy directed me to the front seat where I generously lathered up my hands and fingers in a glob of anti-bacterial hand soap. I smelled sanitized and sickly sweet, but at last could proceed to eat lunch.
I forgot about the guy in the toilet until after eating. Waterlogged with coffee from church and a big gulp of Carl's Jr. ice tea, I needed to pee. It wouldn't wait till home, and though I considered the possibility of something bad waiting on the other side, tried Carl's bathroom door again. It’d been 15 minutes and must’ve been okay to enter by now. And good news- this time it was unlocked. So I pushed the door in....and was immediately enveloped in the most toxic of toxic fumes.
The place reeked as if it'd been ground zero for an atomic stink bomb. Good grief, I had no idea one human being could produce such a formidable stench. I assumed the odor had been left behind by the gentlemen who'd camped out there earlier. And now he was either someplace in the restaurant eating with the rest of us--its alivvvvee- or had already fled the scene of his crime. Regardless, at that moment that particular bathroom was the most disgusting place on Earth. It was gross. Peeing as fast as I could, my nostrils begged for fresh air. When finished and still holding my breath, upon my escape I nearly busted the door down.
But I wondered why anybody would go into a public restroom and foul it up like that. I mean, I understand the call of nature; sometimes you're out and caught with a problem, and have nowhere to go except the nearest public place with indoor facilities. But c'mon. That guy died in there. There's no excuse for that. Hey, just because you ate several servings of rotting road-kill and messed up your intestinal tract at breakfast, don't take it out on the rest of us at lunchtime That's bad form; really nasty. Stop it.
Bottom line: stay home and stink up your own bathroom.
Okay, 'nuff said. Thanks for your patience. I feel so much better now that we've cleared the air.
When I lived in Tiki, the Creative Writing theme dorm, did I ever mention the intestinal offenses of Elbert Wallace?
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