Public Restroom Confessions

During a family road trip over the weekend I found myself in the unavoidable situation of needing a public restroom. My mission was to pee and get out while touching as little as possible. I pushed the bathroom door open with my hip. The stale stench, drab décor and dim lighting would’ve made the perfect setting for a scary movie.

After much deliberation, I chose the stall farthest from the door. It should have the least germs, I thought. Dirty, lazy people would most likely choose the stall closest to the door. I would at least forego contact with their germs.

I use my sleeve to latch the door shut and commence my business, while hovering over the toilet. That was when I heard the door open and the scurrying of anxious feet. To my astonishment, I looked to the floor and saw two bare feet coming from the stall next to me. Even more disturbing was the condition of the feet. They were dirty on top, too.

Getting the bottoms of your feet soiled is understandable, especially considering someone who doesn’t wear shoes. But dirty on top could mean only one thing. They hadn’t seen a bath in days. Yikes.

I had no sooner finished my paperwork that I heard my neighbor to the left let out a loud moan, which was followed by, “Ohhhhh, Jesus.” I knew one thing. I had to get out of there and fast. So desperate to flee, I forewent the usual aseptic technique that I use to exit such a place. I placed my hand directly on the latch, opened it and went straight to the door. Grabbing the handle directly, I swung it open with such force that it banged against the wall.

As I walked back to the car I couldn’t help thinking about all the germs now residing on my hands. I could almost feel them. Rotavirus, swine flu, booty funk. Who knows what I’ll come down with in the coming days? Unfortunately, some things are worth it.