You’ll Never Know

I’m standing in front of the urinal while that feeling of a good pee trickles through my body.  Another man enters the restroom.  He stands next to me but I can’t see his face.  It’s not the appropriate time to make eye contact.  Trust me.  My peripherals tell me he’s wearing a bluish shirt and my ears say he likes flip flops.  I hear his sigh of relief while I’m staring at the today’s Sports section, enclosed in glass, unconvinced that another juiced-up baseball player is any real news these days.  I complete the urination process; shake, zip and flush.  I think to myself, “Man, flip flops and urinals are two things that should never go together.  I need to wear shoes more often.”

As I stand in front of the mirror, water running and soaping my hands, I hear the sound of another urinal flush.  The man must be finished; we were the only two in the room.  I scoot to the side to give him some room at the sink.  He never shows up.  The sound of the bathroom door opens along with a roar of patrons.  The unidentified mammal did not wash his hands.  There is a wild animal on the loose!  I feel obligated to notify the public.  I leave the bathroom, using the paper towel to grab the handle of the door because numb-nuts just forced me to.  I hold the door open with my foot, roll up the wet paper into a ball, shoot… and miss once again.  Yes, I’m the reason those wet wads of paper litter the floor.  I’m a horrible shot.

I’ve been tempted to say something to these culprits, but I’ve never done it.  The urge to yell out, “That man,” with my sparkly clean and sanitized finger pointing in his direction, “did not wash his hands!  Him!  Right there!”  I’ve wanted management to kindly remove him from the establishment, asking him never to return.  Like writing a bad check, I want to see a Polaroid of his face behind the counter for all to see.  I’d like a few people to unfriend him on Facebook.  Actually no; block him.  Yes, block him.

A few weeks ago I was at the car wash, with one public unisex restroom.  I really had to go, tried the door but the room was occupied.  I waited impatiently, hoping someone wasn’t having a bad day; a poop attack as my friend Kym would call it.  Fortunately, I heard the toilet flush but unfortunately the door swung open before the toilet could even finish its cycle.  Another wild animal on the loose.  I gave him all the room he needed as he exited, and I felt my personal space grow exponentially while he continued on with pee-pee hands kind of life.  I walked to the front of the toilet only to see what looks like large yellow islands; like a map of Fiji painted in a shade of orangey yellow.  I thought to myself, “He needs to drink more water, but he shouldn’t.  That’d require him to continue his wild urination quest.”  The worst part:  I have to clean it up.  This stranger’s piss.  There could be a beautiful, perfect 10 of a woman waiting on the other side of the door thinking I was trying to do a pee helicopter during my private moment.

I haven’t spent a lot of time in the women’s restroom but I’m sure similar things go on in there too.  Maybe not so much pee on the seats, but you get my drift.  When I see that sign, “EMPLOYEES ARE REQUIRED, BY STATE LAW, TO WASH THEIR HANDS BEFORE RETURNING TO WORK,” or something similar, I think it’d be better written, “GO AHEAD, RETURN TO THE PUBLIC WITH URINE AND FECES ON YOUR HANDS.  WE LIKE TO SPREAD PINK-EYE IN OUR ESTABLISHMENT.  THANK YOU FOR HAVING SHIT THAT DOESN’T STINK.  ASSHOLE.”

So, my resolution to this is very simple; call it courtesy flushing my troubles away if you will.  It started last week while using the restroom and witnessing a guy on his mobile at the urinal, and pretending there were no sinks, soaps or water as he left, still yapping on the phone.  I went back to my table, pointing him out to my friend, and said, “That man did not wash his hands!  Him!  Right there!”  We both looked over, watching him ending his call, sit at a table, handing the device to a child for her amusement, and reaching over to hold the hand of the woman he appeared to be in love with.  They had lunch together, and shared more that day than they’ll ever know.

But I will.

Author: Full Time Daddy

CEO of Olive Us, LLC Founder of Single dad to two amazing daughters

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  1. Trust me, these eyes have seen some of the most horrific sights within the walls of a women’s restroom. I often find myself perplexed, left wondering… “Was this person physically UNABLE to prevent this catastrophe?” “Could it have been a small child, or elderly person who wasn’t capable of proper clean up?” “Or do people really possess the ability to be THIS disgusting?”

    I clean up a lot of pee. I have a five year old son who I sometimes think makes it his personal goal to create artistic puzzles of urine upon the toilet seat. Maybe he thinks it’ll dry, which he has often said. In reality though, he’s just a boy and hasn’t fully realized the benefits to proper hygiene. Either way, it’s gross. Whether from man, or child, woman or elderly. I get it.
    I think the only feasible solution is to invent a germ-detecting automatic door lock. You place your hand under the screener, and if they don’t pass inspection, you’re stuck until you correct the situation.
    This would solve two very important problems in the world; the spreading of nasty microbiotic germies, and the lack of adequate soap-stocking in public restrooms.

    Vent done.

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  2. A pee helicopter? That sounds dangerous.
    Also, thanks for reinforcing my germophobia.

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  3. I have such Phobia to using public restrooms, to the point that It brings me extreme anxiety. You just reinforced that! Thanks!
    But seriously, The few times I absolutely have had to make use of one; I have made sure to use plenty of covers for the seat and wash my hands and clean after my self. God I just shuddered from the mental Image of the filthy guy you encountered! uuuugggghhh.

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  4. Years ago I worked in one of the first discount epartment stores, which will remain un-named. I was the Office Manager. Employees didn’t have their own bathroom facilites. We used the public bathrooms like everyone else who came into the store. There are worse things than pee that get left on the toliet seat. Every so often someone would feel the urge while suffering from the swamp trots….the usual m.o. for this disgusting person was to apparently drop her drawers, bend over and aim in the general direction of the toliet and let ‘er rip….and there it remained until the poor janitor was paged to have a go at cleaning it up…..some things leave pictures in your mind that you never forget…..

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  5. I’ve often wondered what some people get up to, with the mess they leave in public toilets. We’ve recently had both the bathrooms renovated at work, so for 12 days the whole building (men and women) had ONE disability toilet to use. OH. MY. GOD!

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  6. From time to time I see your post on Facebook and stop to read them. This is ultimately the funniest one, I guess cause I am a little OCD when it comes to touchy a guy’s hand after he comes out of the restroom. Moisture in his hands doesn’t always mean he washed them.

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