My fellow wanderers of the ever-increasing cyber-spatial world, good day to you! I would first and foremost like to issue a formal apology for my unexplained sabbatical from the web. Unexplained, because, as you can imagine, my penchant for social interaction has greatly decreased over the past year-and-a-bit. Why, you ask? Well, on that level, friends, I must proudly inform you that I am no longer a frequenter of the public transport system.
Hurrah! Hu-zzaah! And confetti for all! In sum, once I acquired a vehicle (lovingly christened Charlie Kenelm Sewell the First), the need for me to embark on my daily auto-bus journey greatly depleted, and I (most alarmingly) found myself almost pining for the opportunity to publicly despise people, owing to Charlie's and my very lonely drive as his wheels trudge through the roads. The extent of my association with other humans is limited to waving my hand out of my window to thank a good Samaritan for allowing me to interrupt his course, or to gesture frantically for others to do the same. No matter! I digress from the topic of today: Bathrooms. Salles de bain. Comfort Stations. Washrooms. The Poo Depot, and whatever else you choose to call that space whose use I will not describe here (for very obvious reasons).
Today I shall embark on an exploratory verbal journey highlighting the combined Do's and Don't's of proper public restroom use. Hell, forget public, even general restroom use. From toilet-paper conduction to proper-handwashing, let me guide you through this inevitable reality of our lives.
1: The Opportune Moment
I can confidently and unabashedly state that this, above all, is one of the most integral aspects of our favoured topic today. In many ways, finding the right time to relieve oneself (if possible, of course, for the call of nature is akin at times to the blaring of a siren, at which point you, my un-lucky, pressured-up friend, have little choice but to high-tail it to the next stall without so much as a glance at the U-Bend for fear of unceremonious expulsion of bodily matter into your no doubt snappy attire) is a task. How can I effectively monitor the traffic of my local lavatory? Is this even possible? And if so, WHEN DO I GO?
The Do's of this category are many and varied. First, surreptitiously scope your scenery for every possible access you have to your facilities. Are there several options available to you, or are you condemned with a choice of only one cluster-of-crap-collectors? Find it out, then attempt to adhere to your bodily schedule. If you are fortunate enough to have a relatively regular digestive cycle, then I both applaud and sympathise with you. Applaud because this means your fibre intake is paid infinitely more attention by you than my own. Sympathise, though, because THIS means that you are likely one of those who falls into the high-volume time bracket allotted to latrine use at the office, or out and about. Generally speaking, there is a 2-4-2 rule. Early in the day (round 8:00-8:30AM) your washroom will be a celebrity. Two hours later, at 10:00AM, the same. Most people refrain from bathroom activity around lunch-time, and rightly so; therefore, the next rush occurs at around 2:00PM, four hours after the formerly indicated time. Finally, right before people embark on their journey towards home, between 4:00PM and 5:00PM, the commodes once again enjoy a copious flow of flushing.
If you are not chronologically inclined, you must suffer from the ultimate Don't in finding the right moment. This, friends, is one of the most harrowing experiences. Imagine: you have answered to your body's need to rid itself of wasteful, un-used nutritious material. You are exercising your quadriceps and hamstrings in an attempt to fortify your mysophobia. Suddenly, without warning, you hear the tell-tale sounds of a pair of frantic feet barging into the bathroom, complete with a bang of the door and much huffing and puffing on your intruder's part. Immediately, you tense, almost lose your bearings, and risk sustaining a hamstring injury in the process of making your presence known, so that your trespasser is privy to the fact that there is another soul in this now forsaken place (ironically dubbed a "comfort station" by many). THIS is the Don't: Never, ever make a distressed entrance into a public lavatory. You risk not only causing an unfortunate accident to the individual already present in this situation (over which you must understand that he or she has the right, as he or she was there first), but also causing yourself a great degree of embarrassment if you yourself do not pay attention to others.
2: Occupancy
Directly in relation to the above, in the event that your privacy-assailant makes a swift and cunning entry into the washroom, the only indication to which you are aware is the soft creak of rusty hinges and lightly-padding feet, always, ALWAYS make a conspicuous noise (preferably one that does not exit any orifice other than your mouth), such as a cough, or a Price-Is-Right-esque spin of the toilet-paper roll, to inform this person of your occupancy of one of the (hopefully numerous) stalls. Conversely, if you have lost dibs on the opportunity to earn a solitary trip to the loo, please make sure anyone who may be in there already is certain that you are about to share an almost-intimate encounter between solid phenolic commode-separators.
DO NOT attempt to quietly go about your business, as the consequences of an unceremonious expulsion of gas or more substantial matter might give you away, and cause you to feel even warmer than you might already. An anecdotal account will tell you that this never bodes well; the worst of it all occurs when you yourself know that the other person is determined to accomplish the same task as you (which ends in the number two), and you both silently acquiesce to engage in a game of statue, until one of you finally relents and abandons ship (or alternately, "t"), and surrenders back to your quarters where you wait impatiently for the next Opportune Moment.
3: Small-Talk
In this category, for incredibly obvious reasons, there is no "Do". No. Just do not, ever, engage in a bout of friendly conversation with anyone, ever, whilst in a bathroom... EVER (can I make myself more clear, here?). It does not matter if you are seeing this person's new haircut for the first time, or if they declare to you that they have fallen in love and are going on a whirlwind, romantic destination-wedding-adventure, or that their furry little friend is undergoing dental surgery and they'd appreciate your sympathy. Smile, nod, and politely exercise the same tactics as described earlier on in my musings concerning public transportation human-avoidance. I cannot stress this enough. Why, you may ask? Well, to counter that, let me ask YOU, my fine friend, this:
Do you enjoy having to speak in a strained voice with your fellow, all the while knowing that they know exactly what you are doing? By 'exactly' I don't simply mean they are thinking: "Oh yes, my friend here is emptying her bowels while she speaks to me"; I mean that they know exactly what you look like on that toilet: hunched over and concentrating on controlling too many muscles all at the same time, while trying to maintain composure of your vocal chords in keeping up a completely capricious conversation with the ceaseless conversationalist! Not a very attractive image, is it?
So please, spare your words for a lunch-time stroll or casual run-in at the kitchen counter; the time to discuss a report deadline (or something far more mundane) is not when you are about to relieve yourself of your abdominal toil. This definitely goes for both parties that wish to save face in a moment of bodily vulnerability that is, quite plainly, completely unavoidable to most human beings.
You might, at this time, be thinking, "what a load of crap I've just read," and although I would question your resolve to completely finish reading this post if you had not wanted to learn something of value, you would, technically, be correct.
