Le Salle de Bain

So, the interesting thing about public bathrooms that you frequent is that you always end up with a favorite stall. At work, I absolutely have one. The toilet is not too high (which mercifully means that your feet don't dangle as they do in the middle stall) nor too low (which always makes you feel like the early growth spurt kid in the pre-K class who has to move the step-stool to the side--not that I was ever that kid, just heard stories). I've gotten used to the wider-than normal gap between the door and the frame and have discovered its usefulness for determining the identity of those who walk in after me--it's always supremely important to know who else is in the bathroom with you. I've used MY stall about 99% of the time, and those who know me KNOW that that must add up to a considerable number of uses--clearly I have gotten comfortable with the familiar.

As such, it's always so jarring to walk into the loo and find MY stall occupied by someone else. It's all I can do to not stand paralyzed with consternation in front of the stall door--which, in light of the aforementioned gap between door and frame, would be extremely rude bordering on the voyeuristic. Then I am forced to use one of the other stalls where the toilets are unnecessarily high and feel far less comfortable than my usual one. I hate being in the middle, it's like having surround-sound of people peeing which is never good and intrudes too much upon the mystery I like to maintain between me, my co-workers and those other people on the other side of the floor. The handicapped stall is entirely too big--I keep expecting an echo of every sound I make: ripping toilet paper reverberating off the tile walls, the flush creating such sonic vibrtions that I'm litterally jarred out of the stall. Besides, nobody wants to be the dunce that keeps the handicapped person waiting when they have to urinate. They have enough hardships as it is, don't need to add worrying about pants-wetting to the mix.

I've even considered adding homey decorations to my stall--why not? The middle one has an old no smoking sign in it (ironically the paper is all brown suggesting that bathroom visitors have not been heeding it's declaration). I say my stall deserves at least a reminder to flush and wipe the seat.

Speaking of, I cannot fathom why it happens--with alarming frequency--that you walk into a public stall to find pee all over the seat. First off, the toilet hole is quite large, HOW DO YOU MISS? Second, on the offchance that there is some alcohol, cannibis or other behavior-impairing substance in your system, and you do end up dribbling on the seat, have the good sense to wipe it off! You have to turn around and face the toilet to flush anyway, clearly you must see whatever residue you have left behind. Who on this earth looks at the toilet seat, sees evidence of their recent bathroom activities and decides to leave it there as a special gift for the stall's next occupant? My favorite is when they know there's a line and that they will inevitably come face to face with said next occupant as they leave the stall. Every woman knows that proper busy-bathroom ettiquette includes swiftly moving toward the stall that is soon to be vacated--as soon as you see the door start to swing open, you make a bee-line for it--getting in faster means getting out faster which means the next poor victim of male-bathroom architects will be able to relieve herself all the more swiftly. But this ineveitably results in brushing by the former stall occupant. Those women who look you in the eye as they exit, despite knowing they have left a puddle on the seat for YOU to clean up, are just sick, twisted and more than a little vindictive. Honestly, if there's a BETTER reason for washing your hands at the end of your loo experience, I have yet to find it.

Toilet-Seat Pee-ers, beware. Next time I walk into a stall to find it more than a little damp I am going to turn right around and hunt down the offending woman--no matter how badly I need to make use of the necessary myself.