Public Announcement

I may be the only one, but let's find out.

When I am in a pubic restroom, and there are multiple stalls, and one of them is a handicapped stall with its own sink, mirror and paper towels, and there is no one waiting for that one and I end up using it, I find that the same thing happens every time.

I take care of my business, wash my hands, dry my hands and head out into the main "sink area." And for whatever reason, I feel the need to make a big show of the "I just washed my hands" bit so they know. I practically sing it and/or shake the invisible excess water off my hands so that no one thinks I am one of those gross people that doesn't wash their hands before they return to their table. Employees must wash their hands, by the way.

Seriously, though. I practically make an announcement.

"Hey ladies! I just washed my hands in there - yes, I had my own sink! - so don't you go thinking I'm disgusting and unsanitary and not clean and passing along my germs to my friends/coworkers/clients/flavor of the evening out there at the bar/restaurant/table. Just in case you were wondering!?"

I'm pretty sure that no one even notices, thinks about it, or cares, but I am telling you the truth.

I had my own sink in there. Promise.

Bomb Shelters or Bathrooms

I have a vent. A group of us gathered at my favorite little local bar this weekend, and enjoyed a nice evening of conversation, drinks, random intrusions by a drunk guy named Kevin, and good juke tunes.

But, why is it that even in this nice bar, with cool decor, good un-bar-like food, a friendly staff and clean furniture, does the bathroom resemble a dusty bomb shelter in 1940s Germany?

It is a treat to make it down the steep metal stairs alive, and when you do, you think a rewarding trip to the ladies room is in your future. After you stand in line, of course.

Instead, you get to battle a dank, nasty, low-ceilinged bathroom with only two stalls, one of which leaks something rank all over the floor. As if that isn't bad enough, on one of the stalls, the door is gone, so they've installed a trusty little curtain hanging on the outside of the stall, but it is just resting up there on two little posts, and it inevitably falls on your head as you slide the curtain aside to gain some privacy. It fell twice for me and bounced once off my head...it was my lucky day.

Lucky is what you call yourself if there actually is toilet paper left in there. I'm convinced that not once in the course of a Saturday night does anyone actually check the state of affairs in a ladies room, much less replenish the provisions.

After the stall incident is complete (and you're very possibly drip-drying), you are treated to sinks with no hot water, and paper towel dispensers that are almost falling off the wall. The pile of trash was overflowing, so most of the newer towels are on the floor (maybe soaking up the toilet's leakage?).

It is an all around disgusting adventure. If only I hadn't ever broken the seal.

Come on, at $5 a beer and $8 a cocktail, can't a lady get a cleaner, more pleasant bathroom experience?