The Washroom Adventure

Having a mid-afternoon lunch in a smaller café is always pleasant. With a little more than half of the tables occupied with patrons, the majority of customer flow is take out items from the counter service only establishment.

While sampling the latest offerings displayed on the newly revised chalk menu board I get the call. So I politely excuse myself and make my way across the restaurant to the restroom. Upon entering I notice that this is a single seat unit with a conveniently placed sink to the left of the commode. So I close and latch the door behind me. The horror of what I see next cannot be unseen no matter how hard I try.

            Now, I will never understand the attraction or amusement found in doing this and if you do please keep it to yourself. I choose to remain ignorant to this one for the rest of my days. Approaching the porcelain convenience preparing to perform my one act play is when I am halted with disgust and astonishment.

Someone has urinated on the seat. The mind now spins out of control wondering why somebody would do this. What were they thinking at the time? Obviously they weren't thinking that there would be anybody else using this facility after they were. What does the bathroom in their home look like? Who could possibly be the culprit? Then try to remember if you saw the last person that came out. I cannot speak for anyone else on this but I usually wad up some toilet paper and give it a quick wipe down for a couple of reasons. First of all, it is disgusting to say the least, and secondly I don’t want the next person to think that it was me.  I have on occasion taken a piece of paper towel and written a disclaimer “IT WAS LIKE THIS WHEN I GOT HERE”. Now you can feel free to be relieved.

With the task at hand taken care of and making your way to the sink you notice how clean and tidy it seems, almost untouched. Your mind reels once again at how this is not possible. The sink is dry, also the counter, no soap residue and everything appears too clean for an afternoon restroom in a reasonably busy place. Doesn’t anybody wash their hands anymore? Even the seat urinator? He must have gotten some on himself somewhere judging from the spray pattern.

 Intending on washing my hands anyway, it appears to be up to me to once again hide the evidence, or in this case, lack of, and make it look used. Not to the point of making a mess mind you, but just enough to show that yes I did wash my hands after the fact.

Now take some paper towel in your hand, unlock and open the door with it and try not to think of what might be clinging to that door handle.