Ladies Rooms are anything but ladylike. Women can be some of the nastiest people, leaving absolute filth in their wake. Any woman reading this piece, who’s used a public rest room knows exactly what I’m talking about. When I think back over my life and the women I’ve known, I’d like to think none of them were capable of such disgusting personal conduct in a public facility, but the odds say some of them were Bathroom Befoulers, hard as that is to process.
Imagine if you come from a family of at least five women. It’s likely one of them is one of those type women. Those women who have nothing better to do than make life nasty for the next girl. Was it as bad when I was a girl? I’ve been trying to remember, without spouting off the old standards about life being better back then. I remember awful graffiti and nasty writing in the bathrooms at the five and dime. It was back near the lunch counter where my grandmother used to take me for a grilled cheese sandwich and pop. She hated sitting at the end of the counter where the bathrooms were and I remember her complaining regularly about the state of them. So I guess this is a timeless thing. Back in Rome, the public toilets were a gathering place for socializing. Time to talk politics and gossip, while taking your morning constitutional. Oh what an appealing thought…community crapping.
Women, say it with me – I have never, for the record, left a sanitary product out instead of properly disposed, nor have I ever left a toilet unflushed unless I unknowingly used a faulty toilet. I have never spread any bodily anything on any wall at any time, nor have I left nail polish messages or gum that has hardened to sticky nasty scratchy garbage. I’ve never left nasty toilet paper trailed on the side of the seat, for the woman behind me in line, nor have I ever peed on the seat.
These things are all things I’ve seen in public women’s rooms and friends say I’m not alone in this. Gees, we thought the guys were nasty. I hear it’s not so bad in the men’s room. Maybe it’s bad, I don’t know. I’ve only ever used one men’s room in my whole life. That was at a McCartney and Wings concert about fifteen years ago. The women’s room line was ridiculous and I could not wait. The men’s room wasn’t occupied. I slipped into a stall. Dignity is found in the oddest places.
It is horrible to think that something as basic and simple as seeing to our eliminatory needs has to be befouled by those who just can’t leave something alone; by those who feel the need to leave their mark, so to speak.
Even in the nicest offices, buildings and public areas, bathrooms can be a foray into others odors, private conversations, personal sounds and so on. It’s an interesting notion that humans have run the gamut from outdoor and communal “going” to the near-Victorian idea of privacy.
No wonder my grandmother always insisted we have a dime for the stalls. Those that you had to pay a dime for were always cleaner than the free ones. A very odd notion to think back on, but it makes sense. An elitist notion, pay stalls for a basic human function.
Elitist toileting. I’ll go ponder that a while. Excuse me….
Copyright – 2008 jjthompson
Life on the Half Shell 