In case you gotta pee…
When you visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so
you smile politely and take your place. Once it’s your turn, you
check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied. Finally, a door
opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.
You get in only to find the door won’t latch. It doesn’t matter.The dispenser for the modern “seat covers” (invented by someone’s
Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door
hook, if there were one, but there isn’t – so you carefully but
quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you
put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume “The Stance.”In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.
You’d love to sit down, but you certainly hadn’t taken time to wipe
the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold “The Stance.”To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you
discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you
can hear your mother’s voice saying, “Honey, if you had tried to clean the
seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!” Your thighs shake more. You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday -
the one that’s still in your purse. That would have to do. You
crumple it in >the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn’t work.
The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front
of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of
the toilet.“Occupied!” you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your
footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet
of course.You bolt up, knowing all too well that it’s too late. Your bare
bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the
uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper – not that there was
any, even if you had taken time to try.You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew,
because, you’re certain her bare bottom never touched a public
toilet seat because, frankly, dear, “You just don’t KNOW what kind of diseases
you could get.”By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so
onfused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire
hose that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the
toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that point, you
give up.
You’re soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You’re
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your
pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can’t figure
out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your
hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women,
still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them.
A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet
paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??)
You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it the woman’s hand and tell
her warmly, “Here, you just might need this.”
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used
and left the men’s restroom. Annoyed, he asks, “What took you so long,
and why is your purse hanging around your neck?”
—————
This has been circling internet for awhile, but we got it en masse at work and we all had a good laugh about it.For all of the reasons above–because if you’ve denied this happening to you (okay, maybe not ALL at once) you’re lying–I detest public restrooms. My daughter however, went through this stage from age 6 to about 10 when it was her personal mission to visit EVERY freaking public restroom in the county–maybe the entire northern part of the state. Every restaurant, shopping mall, gas station. And gah, aren’t gas stations the worst?And why IS the seat always wet? If you assume the stance and pee on the seat, aren’t you risking peeing on your clothes, leg and splattering it everywhere? Ew. Usually toilets have a rather large opening…center yourselves ladies!One lady I work with said she wondered if anyone really could catch a disease from a toilet seat. Ya know, I suppose it’s possible, but think about it, really. How do you sit on the seat? What touches? Your butt. Thighs. Not *that* part, unless you’re straddling it in some really weird position or perching yourself at the very end (and what good does that do?). There’s likely more danger from touching the door/lock mechanism than sitting on the seat. (hmmm, makes me wonder if it’s a good thing the lock is always broken!)
Too damn funny! And yes, I loathe public restrooms. And yes it’s happened to me.
Though the Rest Stops on the State of Missouri highway system are the BEST EVER. Clean bathrooms and the coolest handwashing system I’ve ever seen in my life. You stick your hand under the little tunnel thing…soap spills into your hand, followed by a stream of automatically warm water…you wash and rinse…then in the same spot the warm air blow dries your hands. You NEVER HAVE TO TOUCH A DAMN THING!
I always make Charlie stop at the Missouri rest stops. It’s like an obsession with me. *g*
September 30th, 2006 | #