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GreedyTop -> Ladies public toilets (3/7/2008 3:18:57 PM)
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Ladies, I know you will laugh until tears come to your eyes.
Guys, it's going to answer two of the great mysteries of women we have
always puzzled over!
This is too true, and definitely written by a woman!
When we've had to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of
women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn,
you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the stall.
You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the
wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser
for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is
handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there
was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around
your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the
FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."
In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to
shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to
wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."
To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what
you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you
can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean
the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs
shake more.
You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday
- the one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your
neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at
the same time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest
way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The
door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the
toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious s, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your
footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is
wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life
form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper -
not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that
your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're
certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because,
frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could
get."
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is
so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire
hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water
that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The
flush somehow sucks everything down wi th such force that you grab onto
the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water
and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum
wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to
the sinks.
You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the
automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper
towel and walk past the line of women still waiting.
You are no longer able to smile politely to them. A kind soul at
the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing
from your shoe. (Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper
from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here,
you just might need this."
As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered,
used, and left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you
so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"
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