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Ode to Public Washrooms

I cannot, for the life of me, understand the incessant need for automatic toilets to flush a zillion times while you are still sitting on them trying to take care of business! The splashes of back-wash are JUST PRECIOUS… It’s horribly upsetting. To make matters worse, you finally complete the task at hand, only to find yourself hovering over the porcelain bowl awaiting it to flush with actual purpose… but for some reason, once your bum has been lifted, the flushing has come to an end and you’re stuck frantically trying to figure out how to drain the dirty! Of course, just outside the stall is a nice long line-up of ladies awaiting their turn… they’ll know it was YOU!

On to the paper problem…

This dilemma consists of toilet paper making its way out of the dispenser one practically see-through square at a time… so that you’re stuck sitting there collecting squares while the persistent flushing coats your behind with speckles of toilet brew.

Finally, you’ve collected enough squares to wipe to freedom, you’ve managed to send the filth to the depths of who knows where, you’ve crossed through the questionable little puddle in your cubicle and have somehow made it to the wall of shiny spouts all lined up and perfectly spaced before you.

Yes, they too are automatic. The waving of the hands begins… nothing. You lift your hands closer to opening of the spout… further down… further still. You thrust your hands in and out from underneath as if casting a spell. There you stand, doing the Hokey Pokey (left hand in, left hand out… shake it all about). To all the hand-washers of the world – God bless! However, I can’t say I blame those that choose to avoid the daunting feat hand-washing has become.

Just as all hope of clean fingers and palms has vanished… and you’ve exchanged one last sympathizing and defeated expression with the lady doing the hand dance to your immediate left, ICE COLD WATER comes gushing out spraying you and her everywhere.

A word of advice: When travelling, do not be that over-privileged foreigner waving her hands violently for five minutes before someone finally feels sorry enough to come up beside her and press the pedal located directly underneath the sink that makes the water run… because not all stand-alone spouts are automatic… apparently.

Do not let these futuristic water closets make a fool of you! Fight for hot and cold knobs, toilet paper that comes out in consecutive strands, a flusher and a soap dispenser that dispenses soap as opposed to foam!

Then again… when you gotta go, you gotta go.


About Little Miss Spanglish

Bright-eyed dreamer, set in her ways... enjoys working-out to slow jams. Hates being called by her full name by people close to her. Has never had a pet, yet has names picked out for her future fish, cat and Teacup pig (name of future dog still in the works). Loves receiving handwritten letters in the mail (long, handwritten messages in thoughtfully picked out cards also result in a smile). Will stare in disdain at her plate if it is inhabited by: brown rice, asparagus or beets (coming around on the beets). Finds skipping-down-a-sidewalk to be a lost art in adults... refuses to let that happen to her.


2 thoughts on “Ode to Public Washrooms

  1. Some great phrasing here, kiddo. Good, human story that everyone can relate to. You’ve got talent. But you need to get more serious about your craft.

    Posted by Rob Koci | April 10, 2013, 8:17 am
  2. I love this. Great writing and thanks for the great evening at Valdez.

    Posted by Aaron sitting by the bar | July 26, 2013, 11:06 pm

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