The Restroom

We’ve all been there. Queued, or “lined-up” in a bathroom, waiting patiently to use the facilities. (And, as we know, the lines are always longer in the ladies room, but that doesn’t stop us from mentioning it to everyone single person in line… every. single. time.)

A woman comes out of a stall, looks in the mirror, examines her pores, pouts her lips, applies lip gloss, flicks her hair over her shoulder, and then exits the bathroom.

And you’re like… WHAT.

She has just been in a shared, public restroom doing her “thing”, where many other people have done their “thang”… which could include many different situations and circumstances.

When one “uses” (or “abuses”) a bathroom (let alone a shared, public restroom), one touches what other people have touched (door knobs, dryer buttons, faucet taps, soap dispensers, toilet seats, flushers, latches, and – possibly – their genitals…). Germs are passed around, bacteria are shared, infections are spread.

It’s like one big germ/love fest! But, why not go and get a communicable disease the fun way (making out)? (Picking up a disease in a bathroom is so 1987.)

Why don’t people wash their hands? WHY?

Are people just lazy?

How hard is it to get your hands wet, use soap, work up a lather, and then rinse?

Answer: NOT VERY.

I wish that there were signs over the bathroom doors that would light up and announce to the world (or, at least, people in the immediate vicinity): “Didn’t wash hands!” Because I want those non-hand-washing disgusting perverts to know, and to feel… shame.

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