Something We All Have in Common
One thing I dread about being on the road is having to “visit the facilities.” It’s so nice to get home and get to use my very own bathroom in my very own home. Isn’t it funny that we call them bathrooms at home and restrooms when we are away from home? We don’t actually rest in there, do we? Certainly not in the dirty ones.
When Ray and I went on our first date, he asked me if anything interesting happened while I was in the restroom. I said, “The door didn’t close on the first one, so I went to the second one.” Since then I’ve had many interesting happenings in restrooms. (By the way, please don’t tell anyone that Ray and I actually dated. It might ruin my reputation in homeschooling circles. I guess I should ask you not to tell anyone I wrote a blog about bathrooms either.)
One of my most unforgettable moments in a public facility happened when Bethany was about 3 or 4 years old. Being a concerned and caring mother, I carefully laid toilet paper on the seat before she used it. When she was finished, she picked up some of the paper and wiped her mouth with it. Well, I tried.
One of the horrors of “visiting the facilities” is dropping things. Just recently at the Florida convention in Orlando, my belt fell off in the middle of the floor between the stall and the sink. I don’t know how many times I’ve dropped my smartphone inside a stall. The last time was when we stopped by the Petrified Forest National Park on our way to the convention in California. I dropped it about one inch from one of those waterless commodes like the ones you find in a port-a-potty. If it had been much closer, it would have been, “Bye, bye, smartphone.” There was no way that I was going after it!
I’m amazed at the variety available in public restrooms, especially when it comes to ways to wash your hands. These days you almost need to be an engineer to get through the process. The first time we went to the convention in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, I didn’t know if I would ever figure it out. I went to the sink and turned the handles. Nothing happened. You know how it is. You feel like a magician, waving your hands this way and that, trying to get the water to come on. This one had me stumped. Turns out that the handles were not for turning on the water, but just for adjusting the temperature. I didn’t feel so bad when I saw other women having the same trouble. I even got to help them. I think it was the next year that the Farm Show Complex folks had put up signs, telling us how to turn on the water.
And speaking of signs, can you believe all the signs telling people to wash their hands? My mother taught me that when I was little. I’m all for legitimate roles for government, but I don’t need them to tell me to wash my hands!
It’s really nice when a bathroom has water. After the California convention, we went to a public beach. In the bathroom was yet another sign, which had obviously been there a while. It told me that because of a water shortage, the water had been turned off and that hand sanitizer had been provided. I thought about that sign when we drove away from the Los Angeles area through brown hills. At the bottom was a lush green golf course — water for golf courses, but not for washing hands. How am I going to obey all those signs, if there’s no water?
Personally, I like to use soap. Folks certainly have used their Yankee ingenuity to design soap dispensers. What a variety. It’s too bad that there isn’t a pipeline from a giant hidden soap supply to keep them filled. I guess we should think of it as exercise when we go from dispenser to dispenser trying to find a squirt. Isn’t it funny when you see a couple of different wall varieties on the wall and a bottle of liquid soap on the sink?
Of course, then there is the matter of drying my hands. I often think of my great-grandmother Mama Head when I’m waving my hands to make the paper appear. If she came back today, would she think we were all witches?
I mentioned dirty bathrooms. Sometimes I am surprised by clean ones. Once I visited one in a service station that had fresh flowers in it. Once I saw one that was so nice, I took a picture of it. My girls were mortified.
When Ray and I returned from the Arlington, Texas, convention this spring, a sign on the Interstate intrigued us, so we got off and headed for Sulphur Springs to see the glass restrooms. There on the beautiful downtown square were two glass restrooms. They were made of mirrors which reflected the pretty downtown. I didn’t dare go inside. As I understand it, they are one-way mirrors and when you are inside, you can see everything around you, but no one can see inside from the outside. Did I try it? Not a chance.
I don’t really have a “thing” about bathrooms. I’ve just lived long enough to have had many experiences with them. I hope I don’t sound like I’m complaining. I’m not. I’m just having fun with a part of life that is common to us all. Do you ever wonder why God designed us so that we have to go to the bathroom? I’m glad He did. It’s one of those things we all have in common. Restrooms are great equalizers. It’s hard to be proud in there.
When pride comes, then comes dishonor,
But with the humble is wisdom.
Proverbs 11:2, NASB
Funny story. A friend of mine went on a trip and stayed at a fancy hotel. She was so impressed with the women’s room that she told her male friend to go in the male restroom to check it out. He refused. A man walked out of the restroom and my friend stopped him and said, “Are those bathrooms incredible, or what?” The man turned around and it was Dick Clark. My friend’s male friend said, “The next time you tell me to go into a bathroom, I’m going.” They all shook hands, laughed, and went on their way.