Going Public(ly)

18 02 2010

Most people don’t really think about public bathrooms as the worst place on earth; most people are idiots. I have never been in a men’s bathroom where there wasn’t a puddle, regardless of size, of urine in front of the urinals – due to drips and back-splash. Now you have to realize that the puddle is the least of your worries, because you can see the puddle. What you can’t see is the puddle off-spray, the urine that has soaked in nice and cozy to the tile floor; so, that after you shake and prepare to move your foot, you’re greeted by that familiar sound of a Velcro like attachment your foot has to the urine soaked floor – imagine it like black ice, impossible to see and dangerous enough to kill or maim.

Now if the urinal isn’t a sensor flush, I won’t flush, I won’t even use my foot to kick flush. And neither should you. What I fear the most is that once I reach the apex of my kick, the momentum of my high flung leg and the combination of the slippery, urine soaked floor will bring me toppling to the floor; once again, enjoying the black ice.

I’m also afraid of people that stand next to you in a urinal environment. You know the type, empty bathroom, you move into a secluded urinal, the door opens and some creep with a goatee saddles up next to you and gives you a pleasant smirk as he imagines what your penis feels like inside of him. So, if I venture into the bathroom and I feel as though the goatee guy’s arrival is imminent, I’ll move into a stall. However, the stall is another tricky circumstance; poo potential is everywhere. At least with the urinal you know, or can hopefully assume, there is no chance of having a poo encounter of the worst kind. If you are ever in a stall and you think you see a bit of chocolate smeared on the stall wall (obviously from a candy bar that was mishandled by the previous occupant), DO NOT dip your finger for a taste; it’s not good, and most of all, it’s not chocolate. I personally have never done this, but I heard a story from a friend – you wouldn’t know him, he lives in Canada. If in a stall, I will always kick flush. I have little fear of the inevitable crash and make-out party with the urine floor in this situation – simply because the required kick isn’t as high and therefore less likely to develop into a situation.

I do however have a certain regret for the kick flush. I can only imagine the unsuspecting nine-year-old boy who ignorantly uses his hand to flush the toilet, just to find out in weeks he now has hand herpes from the urine that attached to my shoe only to attach to the handle with my kick flush. But honestly, nine years is a long time to live, a lot of time there – those bastards in Somalia only get a few weeks from what I hear, like butterflies.

What we must not forget is that urine of this kind has a plan, a plan to infect. It uses us and the bottoms of our shoes as flowers use bees; it’s an endless cycle of urine’s progress and pollination like conquest. I’m still impressed that urine has hidden its ultimate agenda from the CIA for so long (they figured mine out after an hour and a half and a couple of ‘threatening’ emails). But what little we know, we know it’s evil and we know it’s on the move.

So, yes, I’m afraid of public bathroom and you should be as well. I will begin a petition in the coming weeks to supply every citizen (organized through social security numbers) with a personal nalgene bottle for the nasty deeds that strike our animal natures after a large Italian hoagie. ’til then, stay strong.




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