Big City/Little Man - Bathroom Break
Two weeks ago I was walking down Madison Avenue and was struck by this sudden urge. It was a desire, not to shop as usual, but to stop somewhere and use the bathroom immediately. It was like the commercial with Ellen DeGeneres, the one where she has just “got to go” - except his time, though, I had to go.
The term “use the bathroom” does seems odd - seeing as I rarely use the entire room. I merely had the urge to use someone’s indoor plumbing system for my body waste. That’s all. I didn’t need the magazines, the extra floor space - and unfortunately for those at my afternoon business meeting, I didn’t need the sink either. I just needed the toilet. That sounds more like me - just real and to the point, you know? A real straight-shooter-pooter. Like John McCain with IBS.
The public restroom situation in New York is dire. To use an establishment’s restroom, you’re forced to purchase one of their products or services. So using the restroom in New York could very well cost you nearly $34 USD. So after your bathroom break, you’ll have that candy bar and soda to enjoy.
But it gets worse.
Bathrooms, I’ve noticed through a series of thorough inspections, even manage to evade their lack of genitalia by properly representing their gender. The comparison of men and women’s restrooms can only be equaled by discussions of North and South Korea. The women’s bathroom manages to somehow stay clean, despite the fact that women menstruate monthly. In no way do they meet my initial expectations. I imagined women’s bathrooms covered in blood and toilet paper, assuming they would resemble a CSI crime scene. I admit that I was wrong.
The men’s bathroom is a different story indeed. First and foremost, there is pubic hair all over. And that’s just on the soap dispenser. The current state of the men’s bathroom is truly surprising. Men were given the ability to aim when they pee, but choose to bypass the predecided destination for waste and write thier names in urine on bathroom stalls. Sometimes it’s appreciated. I once did this at the Museum of Modern Art, and they put a placard with my name underneath it.
Rarely do I say this - but god bless Starbucks. Odd as it may seem, Starbucks opens it’s bathrooms for public use. They charge five bucks per cup of coffee, yet don’t make you buy anything to use the john. Fortunately, I’m not in a position to make changes to their business model, bucause on this fine day I was going to get my money’s worth from that free toilet.
As I walked in, I was in fairly high spirits. There’s a new U2 song pouncing in the background, which reminds me of one of my high school favorites - funny enough, also a song by U2. This doesn’t help the tidal wave of urine dying to burst out of my loins, but makes my stammer to the toilet more pleasant.
I open the door, and calmly rip open my pants. I was ready to handle my business when it caught my eye.
Right behind the toilet, starring at me like some sort of lost puppy, was a small pile of feces (poo). Mind you, this is behind the toilet. And mind you again, there’s serious plumbing behind there. It’s positioning was directly behind the bowl, and directly under a main pipe. It was not moved there. It was born there. Whoever did this was a pro.
I handled my business and went about my day. This experience, though, had a surprising effect on me - helping me walk with a little extra pep in my step. Maybe it was the elevation of the art, going from names on walls written in pee to surprise poo piles. Remembering what I saw at Starbucks that day, I couldn’t help bit think one thing: Man can truly accomplish anything.
Filed by Zach at October 22nd, 2007 under Articles.
This column proves that Zach B.’s career is just one huge roffle waiting to happen.
Comment by Tim L. — October 29, 2007 @ 1:56 am