Public places
Ok I'll admit it, I'm a publictoiletaphobic. I hate them. In my younger days I used to be able to drive cross country without stopping, much to the chagrin of my spouse and kids. I still hate it, but now it has become necessary to visit these germ-infested hell holes. I've gotten older and with some neurologic damage, so when the time comes there is no debating, my bladder (and other areas) has become hard of hearing. No amount of debating, pleading, fast breathing, breath holding, or growling will stop what's coming.
Now the next step, where to go? How about Bojangles? Nah, nobody in there, somebody might hear what's going on. Gas station? Dammit, no bathroom. Couple more blocks, getting desperate, have a huge car so pushing people out of the way IS an option.
Made it to the gas station, bathrooms are in the far back. Nice and big, the smell doesn't make you dizzy, free-standing cabinet I can hold onto, toilet taller than usual. Check, we're good. I am handicapped, I absolutely cannot use what my son calls the "time-out toilet." You know, the one made low enough for 4-year-old children to get on and off of. I have no balance, I have to be able to kinda fall forward off of it and yes, this has resulted in my head planted firmly in the wall in front of me, clawing the wall in hopes of getting up. Or even worse, WalMart stalls, not even wide enough to raise your elbows and it makes reaching your behind something worthy of a circus act.
Anyway here we are, gottagogottagogottago. Oh just perfecttttt, the big toilet roller bin on the wall, you know, about 2 feet in diameter. That would be fine but where on earth do they get the paper??? You try to coat the seat with it to keep from getting cooties and it slides right off as fast as you try to put it on (and how if it's so slick does it seem to stick to your butt?). Trying to wipe with this stuff is like using saran wrap, it ain't happening and is a level of yuk never before seen in man. Then there's that filthy cootie-ridden doorhandle that you KNOW 90% of women haven't washed their hands yet handled...OMG..what to do. I grab a paper towel to go out and grab the door with, but once the door is open, I can't reach the trash bin to get rid of it..so I have to either 1) pitch it or 2) carry it with me (eewwwww!). I decide to pitch and stumble off quickly before somebody else comes along and I have to say "be warned it stinks in there."
Got a story for you. My ex and my 2 oldest boys, Chris and Tony, were traveling through western Kansas on our way from Texas to Colorado. We stopped at a Hardees. It was fairly busy. My ex had to go, so the boys and I waited at the counter. My ex never did anything quiet and in fact should have been an advertiser for all bodily functions. The bathroom was huge. It's quiet for a second, the boys are fidgeting, and I hear "uuuugggghhhhhh" and then the undeniable sound of flatulence. The boys giggle, a couple of patrons giggle. Then "uggghhhhhhh", *fart* and "plop." Now everybody starts to giggle quietly. Chris, who is about 5, is bent over laughing. I told Tony to go tell dad to try and be a little quieter. Tony, bold little fart he was, walks in and at the top of his lungs says "Dayyydeee, mom said quit poopin so loud." To this everybody in the building just falls apart. The boys and I go wait in the car.
Now the next step, where to go? How about Bojangles? Nah, nobody in there, somebody might hear what's going on. Gas station? Dammit, no bathroom. Couple more blocks, getting desperate, have a huge car so pushing people out of the way IS an option.
Made it to the gas station, bathrooms are in the far back. Nice and big, the smell doesn't make you dizzy, free-standing cabinet I can hold onto, toilet taller than usual. Check, we're good. I am handicapped, I absolutely cannot use what my son calls the "time-out toilet." You know, the one made low enough for 4-year-old children to get on and off of. I have no balance, I have to be able to kinda fall forward off of it and yes, this has resulted in my head planted firmly in the wall in front of me, clawing the wall in hopes of getting up. Or even worse, WalMart stalls, not even wide enough to raise your elbows and it makes reaching your behind something worthy of a circus act.
Anyway here we are, gottagogottagogottago. Oh just perfecttttt, the big toilet roller bin on the wall, you know, about 2 feet in diameter. That would be fine but where on earth do they get the paper??? You try to coat the seat with it to keep from getting cooties and it slides right off as fast as you try to put it on (and how if it's so slick does it seem to stick to your butt?). Trying to wipe with this stuff is like using saran wrap, it ain't happening and is a level of yuk never before seen in man. Then there's that filthy cootie-ridden doorhandle that you KNOW 90% of women haven't washed their hands yet handled...OMG..what to do. I grab a paper towel to go out and grab the door with, but once the door is open, I can't reach the trash bin to get rid of it..so I have to either 1) pitch it or 2) carry it with me (eewwwww!). I decide to pitch and stumble off quickly before somebody else comes along and I have to say "be warned it stinks in there."
Got a story for you. My ex and my 2 oldest boys, Chris and Tony, were traveling through western Kansas on our way from Texas to Colorado. We stopped at a Hardees. It was fairly busy. My ex had to go, so the boys and I waited at the counter. My ex never did anything quiet and in fact should have been an advertiser for all bodily functions. The bathroom was huge. It's quiet for a second, the boys are fidgeting, and I hear "uuuugggghhhhhh" and then the undeniable sound of flatulence. The boys giggle, a couple of patrons giggle. Then "uggghhhhhhh", *fart* and "plop." Now everybody starts to giggle quietly. Chris, who is about 5, is bent over laughing. I told Tony to go tell dad to try and be a little quieter. Tony, bold little fart he was, walks in and at the top of his lungs says "Dayyydeee, mom said quit poopin so loud." To this everybody in the building just falls apart. The boys and I go wait in the car.
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