2/22/03
I have a peculiar habit.
Whenever I'm using a public bathroom equipped with stalls, I sometimes fold the last sheet attached to the toilet paper roll into a "V" like they do for you at some hotels.
I don't know why I do this. Maybe it's merely my way of making the most of a bad situation. I assume everyone must hate sitting down in a public bathroom as much as I do. Maybe this bit of toilet paper origami is an attempt to let the next person know that I am a good public restroom citizen. I did my best to keep the area as clean and undisturbed as possible. My little toilet paper V's (TPV's) indicate that, other than perhaps some vapor, the previous tenant did his best to not only leave nothing behind but to make that stall a better place.
I know I'd appreciate it if someone did that for me. But, then again, I'd be a little suspicious. I'd say to myself, "Why did someone take the time to make this stall seem so inviting by folding the toilet paper into V's? Someone has obviously inoculated the toilet seat with some sort of deadly bacteria that will crawl up my butt and necrotize my rectum."
Most people aren't as paranoid as I am. I would hope people see the TPV's as a friendly gesture rather than as a big sign that reads, "Caution! Necrotizing Rectum Bacteria."
TPV's are impossible to pull off with those huge, non-segmented rolls of toilet paper that you'll often find in stadiums and convention centers. The paper just hangs out of the machine in tatters because there's no clear method to tearing it off. I guess you're supposed to just rip it when you have enough wrapped around your hand. However, I suspect that if you were able to sit down and read the manual that must come with these units you'd find out that there's some sort of intrinsic cutting device. Of course they never leave the manuals with the dispensers and/or if they do they're long gone by the time you get there.
I just wonder why someone hasn't come up with a less "interactive" way to take a dump. Not unlike the urinal experience in most of these same restrooms. Using the urinal requires very little physical contact with foreign objects and fixtures. It's usually not a problem unless we're talking about the big troughs that you used to find at ball parks. Crowded and there's lots of splashing with no partitions. That's never good.
Then there are bar bathrooms. One urinal that sticks out in my mind is in the bathroom in Pat O'Brian's in New Orleans. It's a big stainless steel trough thunders when liquid hits it. Everything flows out of the trough into a cement culvert that you can see through this nasty looking hole someone obviously made in the wall with their foot.
I could tell you about the worst bathroom I've been in. But I won't. Except to tell you that it was (and I assume it still is) in Tijuana, Mexico. I had to pay a quarter to get in. I would have paid $5,000 to get out (insert rimshot here).
I hate that I started writing on this subject. I've been accused of being obsessed with bathroom humor. I will admit that an expertly timed fart can be funnier than just about anything Jerry Lewis has done in his entire life (and I'm a Jerry Lewis fan, mind you). But I'm not obsessed. It's merely a crutch. A device that I rely upon when I don't know what else to say. It's also an excellent litmus for gauging the humor and tolerance levels of people you don't know. For example, if you're at a table full of strangers and you're feeling a little uneasy; fart. Whomever even cracks a smile is the person you probably want to get to know better. Plus, you can hold your breath, blush, look all embarrassed and apologetic. The uptight people will excuse your transgression because they're so incredibly happy that it wasn't them that loosened up enough to let one fly.
I'm really not this boorish. I just don't know what else to write about.