Where I Like to Sit

As my few regular readers left can attest, I occasionally blog about going to the bathroom. Yesterday while sitting in a stall at work and texting someone, I realized how interesting the feng shui and stall preference patterns in this particular restroom were. There are four stalls with doors. Three are equal sized and one on the far end is for disabled folks and is the size of Texas. The clear favorite stall for a sit down is the third one down, it is contiguous to the living room handicapped stall. The favorite stall has a door that sticks shut so it always looks like someone is using it, so you must walk down to it to glance through the cracks to see if it is occupied. If it is, the general move is to the handicapped stall although some will reverse field and use one of the first two. The problem, as I see it, with the first two is the first one adjoins the stand up urinal row. So even though a wall separates you, you are still next to the urinators. It is noisier and feels less relaxing. The issue with the middle stall, is of course, it is a middle stall and is adjoined by stalls on each side. If you are in there because the preferred third stall is being used then you have to sit next to someone and listen to their thundering discharges and look at their shoes and pants cuffs and try to guess if they are a coworker or not. Our restroom serves several different departments at work, so you just never know. Also, if you are in the middle and a third person shows up and takes the first stall, the one next to the urinators, NOW YOU ARE SURROUNDED. I've had that happen when the middle stall was the only one open. It reminded me of some horrifying experiences in airport restrooms, not Larry Craigesque experiences, but more like being stuck in a cacophonous cattle stampede in a thunderstorm while bouncing along in a horsedrawn shitwagon.

But back to the stall preferences - I used to avoid the disabled stall. Mostly because of guilt and fear. Guilt for using such a large and expansive stall when it was designed for folks who needed the extra room for wheelchair maneuvering and positioning. Why should I use such a big stall when I can still walk?  But I generally have enough other neurotic entitlement issues that I could usually get past the guilt one but the fear of being caught inhibitor could really mess me up. I would sit down in the disabled person's stall and worry that I'd hear the main door to the restroom open and the unmistakeable sounds of  a wheelchair coming in and wheeling down to the stall and I'd be like OMG, NO, and the person in the wheelchair would try to open the stall door and realize it was locked and have to push back and wait and I'd be like straining to hurry up and finish and hope the wheelchair person didn't start talking to me like "hey, man, I hope to fuck you are handicapped and not some lazy assed person wanting the big roomy stall to read their newspaper in, man, because I'm dying here , I'm gonna explode." And I'd feel all this pressure to hurry up and finish the Sports Section and get out and then, and then I'd have to open the door and expose myself to the wheelchair guy as normally abled and mutter something like sorrymanallthestallsweretakenandallsorry and hustle out of there before suffering any more of his disdain and loathing. Probably only taking one sheet of paper towel from the infrared vision robot paper towel dispensers instead of the more luxious two just so to gain a more rapid egress.

So what is the point here? Just that even the most mundane and simple bodily functions and associated environmental cues and structures have patterns and meaning, that everything in life has dominant themes with secondary tones and hues, that even a typical work lavatory is, in effect, a psychological laboratory to examine why we pick the third stall from the end, the one right next to the disabled persons stall, and not the one by the urinators. I find these small treasures of self exploration both worth digging for and even more truly cherished when held up to the bright and yearning searchlight of the human condition.

I challenge each of my few beleagured readers left to find something in their normal routinized daily experience and ask yourself, no, challenge yourself to understand why. Why do I always pick the shopping cart from this row? Why do I always kiss my husband on his right cheek? Why do my kids always drink from the milk carton in the fridge and not pour it into glasses? And so on. Feel free to leave me a comment about what you discovered in this collective journey to self awarness I am inviting you all to partake with me. Let's take a trip to Insight City together!

Comments

[Cowgirl]

For most of my life I have avoided using public bathrooms for anything more than "No. 1" after an unfortunate kindergarten instance wherein the bathroom stall I was doing "No. 2" in did not latch and I was barged in on by two second graders who laughed at my mortification.

My husband's mother is a nurse, and used proper medical terminology for all body functions. No "tinkle" or "poo" in that household -- one "voided" or "evacuated." Imagine his consternation and utter confusion upon attaining the ability to read when he saw a sign that stated "Void where prohibited."

[Heather]

I'm glad to see our mutual Southern friend has found someone to discuss the finer aspects of daily life. We occasionally had discussions like this when we worked together cutting up little pieces of men's prostates, but since we no longer work together, I was afraid she was missing out. I am no longer worried!! :)

[Bob]

The whole cutting up men's prostates thing makes me squirm. But I bet you two could prep an awesome plate of hors d'oeuvres. :-)

[Kirby]

First or last one....(no urinals in the restrooms I frequent). I don't think an issue to use a handicap potty as long as you leave it clean. Is an issue when folks who don't need them use the handicapped parking spots and go-carty things in stores.. my dad is in a wheelchair and minus one leg has been stranded on one of those motorized things in back of Meijer for over an hour when batt died... waiting for another one to be available - cause some fat ass that should have been walking... well, maybe shouldn't go there. Another time he called me so pissed because someone parked illegally next to his car in a way as to not allow his lift (for chair to roof compartment) to operate - again leaving him basically waiting for some asshat to appear. Sorry... I think I was off track - it hit a nerve.

Hey - Happy Father's Day Bob!

[Beary Girl]

Hysterical post! Thanks for sharing your stall humor, I enjoyed it very much. In trying to think of my latest insight, only this came to mind: Because of over 30 surgeries and unholy gut issues, I spend an inordinate amount of time in bathrooms--thankfully most of that time is spent in my own. The first couple of years I nearly went mad spending several hours a day stuck in that room...feeling it close in on me. I was a prisoner and came to identify deeply with the men I saw on HBO's "OZ". I began watching the show obsessively, channeling the many characters. I started calling family members "bitches" and "yard hags" and using crass prison lingo whenever I could fit it into conversation. While doing my time each day in the john I imagined the horrible crimes I'd committed, the problems I'd encounter in the yard that day and busied myself making shanks out of toothbrushes and dental floss. Eventually the show was cancelled and I ran out of material for my make-believe bathroom time. I then had to change my ways and use other things to keep my sanity while locked in the head. A laptop, copious amounts of magazines and good books, and a karioke machine. The acoustics are great! Again Bob, thanks for your great blog. It's so refreshing to find a truly unique voice that is insightful, funny and wildy entertaining. LOVE AC/DC too!!Cheers!