Toilet Terrors

One of the perks of my job is attending conferences in different parts of the country. It helps satisfy my travel urge – in fact, I rarely take vacations apart from a day or two on either end of a conference.

In conjunction with the travel, I get exposure to a variety of hotels with their range of accommodations. Some graciously treat their guests and others find every way to bilk each penny they can from the guests (why is it the more expensive the hotel, the more I have to pay for internet access, but the cheaper the hotel, the more likely it is free?).

A favorite part of any stay in a hotel is the restroom.

As eco-friendly as I try to be at home, I admit I am something of an eco-terrorist at the hotel. I like the clean towels. I like hot water that does not run out. I like the creams and smelly things the hotels put out.

So, I spend as much time in the bathroom as I spend in bed.

The hotel I’m staying in this week is an exception. I have not been able to adequately control the water temperature, so it is either scalding hot or freezing cold. The creams are not nearly as nicely smelly as at many other hotels.

The greatest drawback I have with the bathroom, though, is the toilet.

That’s right, the toilet.

I stay in fear I may accidentally hit the knob and make it flush.

The toilet in my room flushes in milliseconds. I tried to time it, but my fingers are not fast enough on the stopwatch among my phone features.

Did I ever mention I was a bit obsessive?

The toilet flushes loudly too (albeit it is a short loud sound). The shy me remains convinced that everyone on my floor and the floor below me and room above me knows when I’ve done my business.

I actually look forward to getting home on Friday with my softer towels, better smelling creams…

…and quiet toilet that does not devour pets and small children.

Toilet - ries

Periodically I drive from Austin to Wichita, Kansas to see family who live there. Most of the time it is a nice eight hour drive on interstate from start to end. I’ve made the trip enough times that I know the gas stations with the easy-off and easy-on routes in the refill range of my car and the stations with clean restrooms in the empty range of my bladder.

I really hate public restrooms. I’m a short guy; urinals are rarely at the correct height for me. I either have to stand on my tip-toes or go into a stall which is always risky.

One of the (usually) best restrooms is in a convenience store north of Ft. Worth. It is near the mid-point of the trip, so it is perfect stretching time. One nice thing is that it just has a restroom for one person at a time with the option of the urinal or toilet. A problem of it is that it is a busy place and there is frequently a line waiting for the restroom.

On my way up to Kansas on Saturday, I pushed myself to the very edge – partly because the traffic was going so fast and I didn’t figure the highway patrol would shut down the entire highway with everyone going this fast, but when I pulled into the place, I needed to go and was praying there would not be a line. I made my direct dash toward the rest room and saw another guy doing the same thing – I had to beat him, so I put on the power walk and made it in first.

And then I was trapped.

Someone had left the seat down on the toilet and it was sprinkled all over. The floor in front of the urinal was damp.

Thoughts of David Sedaris ran through my head. His story, “Big Boy” dealt with being caught in a bathroom with a no-win situation. I knew I had to either clean the place or the guy outside was going to think I had bad aim or was totally inconsiderate of other people.

And I had to do it fast or who knows what thoughts would go through his head.

Then I realized that it is a public restroom. I am not responsible to clean it, so I did the tip-toe business, washed my hands quickly, and dashed from the store before the guy could finish and look at me.

I stopped at a different store on the way home.