Public Bathrooms and why I hate them

Written September 2009
Published July 2011


Never again. Public bathrooms have made it obvious that they don't want me in there. I don't like them, they don't like me. Please allow me to explain why given last Tuesday's events. 

So I jet in there past the woman changing her baby, and the stall that has a small child on all fours poking his head out from under the door. and having just enough time to be grossed out that somebody is letting their child play on the bathroom floor, I reach an empty stall. . only to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, by this point I'm committed. The dispenser for the santa covers is handy, but empty. I would hang my purse on the door hook, if there was one, but in place of a hook is a pleasant 2 inch wide hole. . . Like my toilet is so exclusive I have to screen the next occupant via the convenient peep hole. . .


"Answer me these questions 3. . . "


"Speak friend and enter.."


"If you've got me you want to share me. If you share me you haven't got me. What am I?"


(I had a lot more of those. But I digress)

Of course setting my fancy purse on the bathroom floor is no pinche bueno. So in lieu of hanging it from the designated purse holder, I just drape it around my neck. And I am woman so I can't have a little wallet purse. Oh no, I gotta have that huge fuck-off bag from mary poppins that has lamps and chandeliers and . . .I dunno. . bricks apparently. 

 I'd love to sit down, but I certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so I hold the squat not realizing what a work out squatting my ten pound bag in heels is. To take my mind off my aching neck, I reach for what I discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.  all I can think is "I bet the janitor that works here thinks he's hilarious. . . yuck it up you custodial bastard"   I don't have a whole lot of time to be upset before someone pushes my door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits me square in the face which is no good for a few reasons.

1- I just got slamdanced in the face with a metal door. Um.  ouch.

2- people gotta leave the stall to wash their hands, hence all those wonderful germs I've been avoiding putting on my ass are now on my face.

3-in a fluster to not expose my reproductive system to the other lovely bathroom occupants (which seems to be the entire Portland metro population) I lost my footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. Which is wet of course. I bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. My bare skin has made direct contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because I never laid down toilet paper-not that there was any, even if I had taken time to try.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet thinks it time to flush. And I get the one confused toilet that thinks it's a bidet, propelling a stream of tainted water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that shoots out and hits me.

At this point, I give up there's nothing left to wipe with but the last tiny bits of toilet paper left on the rounder. And I'm way too embarrassed to ask the stall next to me to spare a square seeing as how she probably thinks I'm insane based on all the noises and random cursing coming from my side of the wall. Wash my hands (and face) and I'm out.  Well played public bathroom. you win this round.