Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Potty Mouth

Perhaps it is because I grew up in a time and place where outdoor toilets were commonplace, that I feel no real trepidation or sense of disgust when setting foot inside a public restroom. In recent times though, that comfort has turned south, and the reason is because of a complete lack of decorum from my fellow porcelain patrons. The cell phone has turned human waste disposal into an exercise in stealth, trying to hide the echo of the bathroom walls or the Skylab like splashdown as your McDonalds sausage burrito decides it's time to leave (usually no more than 7-9 minutes after ingesting it). Why people can't talk to their lawyers outside the toilet is a mystery to me.

Having to hold an Iphone in one hand, toilet paper at the ready in the other, means that the courtesy flush has become something of a lost art. More than once I have been forced to hold my breath longer than David Blaine in some ghastly underwater TV special, simply because the foul individual, who just so happened to choose the stall directly beside mine, despite the 15 other empties, couldn't use a free appendage to speed away their last meal which smells like roadkill marinaded in Aqua Velva. I can't even pinch my nose during such moments, because dude who was in there before me obviously has a penis that dispenses urine at the velocity of a firehose given the amount of yellow liquid dripping down the commode, walls and overhead fluorescent lights, meaning I have to precariously balance myself over the toilet in a maneuver that could land me in the next Olympic pommel horse squad.

You really shouldn't be that exhausted after completing a task a simple as emptying your bowels. It's this level of tiredness that makes the act of hand waving for water and a paper towel so frustrating. If you ever walk into a public washroom and see a fellow bent over the sink, crying uncontrollably, that'll be me. I will be weeping for the days of faucets that turned by hand, and a roll of paper that you could simply tug on to get the next piece. I shouldn't have to flail around like a epileptic magician, just to receive some sanitary satisfaction.

And so my distaste has now grown to proportions where I am now trying to program my body to take care of it's messy business during home hours. Sure, there may be an accident or 2 along the way, but what's a couple of pair of soiled knickers for a little peace of mind?


Clare and Gary said...

Ha ha.. this made me laugh out loud :-0) I can't stand public restrooms... yuck

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