Friday. Mid-morning. Memphis Airport. After checking in, but before going to the gate, I used a small men's room just off of the ticketing area, creating a solid #2 in stall two of a four-staller that included one handicrapper. This was quite a busy little room, full of the farts, plops and odors of a rotating cast of stallmates, with the toilets on one side of a dividing wall, and the urinals and sinks on the other. These toilets were equipped with those annoying red eyes that flush off and on to some arcane program known only to them. I always prefer manual flushers, which allow me plenty of time to stand and view after I've delivered, a practice I enjoy from the standpoints of both health and pride -- if you've done an easy slider, it naturally makes you feel good, and good about yourself as well.
And that brought up Issue #1: I'd rather be in control of my flushing mechanism all the way. How do you feel about it? And how are those automatic flushers justified when one can often end up using a ton of toilet paper before the first flush occurs? I'd like to hear someone defend these things.
Friday. In flight. Northwest Airlines. I got up once during the nearly four-hour flight to piss in one of those lavatories, as the airlines call them. (I've always called them blue swishers; they've been known at times to eject their contents in the form of blue crapsicle blocks onto some poor schmuck's farm miles below with missile-like efficiency.)
As I steadied myself over that howling, swirling vacuum of a trap door, carefully aiming my equipment, I thought about something a female co-worker had said to me years ago when she and I had gone disco dancing one evening. The club we'd patronized featured two small single-user bathrooms, one for each gender. At some point during the evening, my dance partner had to "go tinkle," as she put it. She returned with a horrified expression and told me that a guy had walked out of the ladies' room just before she got to the door.
I was familiar with the set-up of the facilities, so I asked why it disturbed her that a guy had been using it, since only one person could use it at a time. She replied that it just freaked her out. I have also had some other female friends tell me that they, too, were disturbed when they saw a man going into a single-user bathroom designated for women. (I have done this myself, once in a great while, always out of desperation.)
So that raises Issue #2: why would someone be disturbed about seeing a member of the opposite sex enter or exit a single-user public bathroom designated for the other gender, when that same person will use a unisex airplane lavatory without regard to who has just been in there? Is there any real difference at all? Is there something about such facilities on the ground that makes people more finicky? And, if so, how do those same people justify using Port-a-Potties at fairs and concerts?
Sunday. Midday. L.A. International Airport. I walked into a large men's room with about seven stalls, a row of urinals across from it, and a row of sinks at the other end of the room. A young father brought his three- or four-year-old daughter into the bathroom with him and pissed at a urinal, letting her roam around while he did his work. She got hold of a paper towel and twisted it into various shapes, laughing, screaming in a high-pitched voice, and probably catching sight of a ballpark frank here and there while doing so.
I noted that LAX features those new-concept "family bathrooms," in which a parent can take a child of the opposite gender so as not to disturb the privacy of those using conventional facilities. He should have taken advantage of that option, in my opinion. So, Issue #3: shouldn't these family-type bathrooms be required at large terminals or other frequently used facilities? But more to the point: in the absence of such facilities, what do you think is the proper way to handle bringing a small child into a bathroom of the opposite gender?
Poopers, it's now in your court.