Tinkle Tinkle

        Know what sucks?  Public restrooms.  Well, for females at least. Guys have it easy.  They can pee any place they desire.  Outside on the tree in the backyard, in a potted plant, in an alley; it makes no difference really. (Not that I am saying it’s ok.)  But, we women are forced into nasty over used and under cleaned facilities.  Call me a bathroom snob, but very few public restrooms are up to par for my dainty booty!  Sometimes you walk in and everything is dripping wet!  It’s like you’ve stumbled upon a cave!  They are dank, dark, smelly, and just plain gross!  But alas, when you gotta go, you gotta go.

        First, is the task of locating the cleanest stall, assuming that you have a choice.  Some people kick each door in; however, I choose to gingerly push them with one finger.  While holding my breath, I survey the stall.  I’m looking for an empty bowl with zero signs of leftover poo, no TP on the floor but plenty on the roll, no signs of womanhood halfway hanging out of the trash, ideally a dry floor and no piddle on the seat.  Once I’ve made my choice, I take a breath.  Not a whiff, just a closed mouth (ALWAYS closed mouth) breath.  If I didn’t nearly pass out and my eyes didn’t water, I enter the stall.

        Now, this is an entire issue of its own!  It must have been a skinny man that was the inventor of bathroom stalls.  Firstly, the doors typically open inward.  This may seem like no big deal, except the door opens within two inches of the toilet seat.  Dumb.  That means that I need to either squeeze between the wall and the toilet seat (naturally, only if there is no smeared remnants of poo or boogers or whatever the hell people wipe all over bathroom walls!), or do the Toilet Seat Straddle.  The TSS, as we will call it, means you must bear hug your belongings, spread your legs wide enough to clear the seat, bend your knees and shimmy, shake, or walk your way into the stall like you are playing Operation, except instead of just getting a buzz for touching the sides, you get a flesh eating bacteria or herpes!  Once you completely enter the stall you can reach around and push the door closed using your foot (ideally, but requires a level 2 skill set of the TSS) or by using your hand or clothing covered booty.  Then you do the TSS in reverse!  What makes that all even more fun?  Winter.  A bulky coat, boots, and a guaranteed wet floor, seriously a good time!

       Once I’ve hung my items on the hook (God, I hope there’s a hook!) I begin the “Protection of the Nether Reigon” portion of potty time.  There are undoubtedly germs swarming the throne.  So protection is a priority.  First option is seat covers.  Usually provided in-stall.  I very carefully pull one out, taking extra caution on the sides to avoid rippage.  Then cautiously rip the perforations to open the seat of the liner.  I carefully place the liner on the seat and pray to all of the Gods that it stays put!  If there are no seat covers, then I have to employ a little bathroom arts and crafts and make one.  I will rip off strips of toilet paper and, with careful precision and order, I set them on the seat covering all surfaces.  Once the germ barrier is complete, I pray.  Always pray.  This is where I will quickly drop my drawers and double check that nothing has moved.  Cause frequently, one of two things will happen… 1) The toilet auto flushes. Or 2) A mysterious breeze comes along and blows away my cover.  As maddening as this is, I will repeat the entire process until I win.

*Side Note:  I have noticed, mostly in airports actually, that there is now a toilet seat that is equipped with a liner.  Basically when the toilet is flushed the liner replaces itself.  There is a machine of sorts on the back of the seat and the liner will roll into it and come out the other side.  Like it’s one continuous liner that in some way gets sanitized in the machine.       And I don’t trust it.       As a child of the modern world, I know how technology can go haywire.  How do we know that the sanitizer part of the machine is working?  Like the machine can rotate the liner in and out but what if the sanitizer portion malfunctions?  How would we ever know? I understand the concept, and kudos for going green, but I still think it is too risky for my caboose.

        Now it’s time to sit.  Or hover.  I typically prefer the hover method.  First, it’s a bonus leg workout.  Second, it avoids the hazards of sitting.  What hazards, you ask?  Well, as previously indicated, you could lose the liner and your precious flesh will land on the same seat that everyone else as peed and pooed on today.  Also, sitting brings you closer to the water.  This means when the auto-flusher flushes, your nether regions are subject to the fearful and dreaded backsplash!  Ew!!  Made worse by the level of bathroom cleanliness and/or whatever waste you’ve contributed to the bowl.  Ugh!  I feel sick just thinking about this catastrophe!  Finally, and almost as bad as backsplash, is a loose toilet seat.  This is most problematic when you shift on the seat to wipe, or whatever, and some booty or thigh meat gets caught all up under the seat.  It is literally the toilet seat biting you!  You will bleed, scream, and cry all in one movement.  Let’s not forget that now you have an OPEN WOUND in GERMTOWN!  UGH!   Anyway, the point here is to hover.  Sit when you need to but hover when you can.

        As a female, there is no shaking it off.  I must use the paper and wipe.  First of all, another design flaw of the potty stall, is the placement of the toilet paper roll holders.  They are almost on the floor.  In. Every. Single. Bathroom!  I have to bend waaay down (triggering the flippin auto-flusher) and do hand yoga to get up and under the holder to grasp the paper.  Seriously, this could be an Olympic sport and I’d like to think I would place well in my weight division.  Then I’ve gotta carefully pull the roll and hope that I manage to get more than a square at a time.  I feel more proud of myself for getting a 3 or more square section than I do for passing my college finals.  Mostly, it seems that public restrooms have rough transparent TP that rips off in small pieces.  It then becomes about getting a pile of pieces together that is large enough to do the job.  Alas, this cheap excuse for TP does a terrible job of cleaning up.  It slips faster than a roofie in a college bar and collects zero particles along the way.   After a few concentrated wiping efforts, I flush.

        I will not be one of those rude bathroom trolls that leave my “bidness” in the bowl for the next user to stumble upon.  So I gather my belongings and ensure the auto-flusher flushed.  If the toilet is manual, than I raise a leg and kick the button or lever.  I have seen some questionable residue on them and will NOT flush the toilet by hand.  Before I do that, however, I do the TSS to open the door and get out of the stall.  I fear a strong backsplash with the height capabilities to hit my face.   I think that holding my breath with a grimace helps somehow.  So I will stretch into the stall enough to flush then quickly and swiftly exit the stall.  After this, I wash up.

        I try to make this an easy task.  I look for a sink that is not covered in standing water.  Cause my foodie physique may touch the counter top and it’s not very attractive to have a water stain across the mid-section.  Not to mention, I don’t need to draw any extra attention to my soft body type.   I look for a dispenser that appears to have soap and then place my belongings in-between my legs.  I roll up my sleeves and turn the water on.  (Two things – why, for the love of God, do so many bathrooms lack hot water??  And what is the deal with the push faucets??)   I lather up and scrub partially up my arms cause germs are gross.  And then waddle, while still holding my stuff with my thighs, to the dryers or towels.  If I can pick, I choose towels.  I did a research project in school once and the blowers harbor bacteria that blows out onto your hand when they are activated.  So towels.  Then I grab my stuff and prep for my exit.  On the way to the door I grab a paper towel or two and use them as a barrier on the door handle if the door opens in.  If there is not a close trash can, I will hold open the door with my foot, take a leap back with my other foot, and then use my middle school H.O.R.S.E. skills to make the towel into the basket.  Easy peasy.  Not.

        Public places are gross.  I don’t think that janitors clean them like I would clean my home.  And one too many 20-20 shows have engrained suspicion and horror into my brain.  But at the end of the day, my bladder only holds so much.  And worse yet, my Crohn’s likes to come out and play whenever the hell it feels like it.  So, yeah.