Public Restrooms:  Roadside Death Traps.

By:  Bob-0

I got to see Days of the New, best band ever (oh my dear good lord!), and we got to take a 6 hour drive to Toledo, OH.  On the way there we got to stop at a local Ohio I-80 rest stops, they were, to my delight, pleasant to say the least.  They had a Pizza-hut, which I hate at any location, some arcade and gum ball machines, and an espresso shop.  They also sold souvenirs, which I don’t know why you’d want to show everyone to what rest stop you’ve been.  Anyway, while I was there I made a nice stop on over to the rest room, and I was amazed.  It was clean and high tech, I couldn’t have been happier to place my urine there.

The urinals were those detector ones that flush when you walk away, well genius Bob didn’t know that, so he’s looking all over for the lever that you pull to no avail.  So I gave up and walked away thinking that I’ll be hundred miles away before they alert the authorities of such audacity (look it up!).  And just before I started my life of petty crime, a miracle happened, the toilet flushed!  I couldn’t explain it but it happened so I went on my merry way to the sink, but I found that the faucet had no handle, so I panicked.  But I thought to myself, why wouldn’t the sink be automated like the toilet?  So lo and behold I placed my hands under the faucet and out came the water.  Yet, much to my disdain, the soap wasn’t automatic and I hate to press the filthy button thing that made me feel dirty for weeks, but that was my only complaint.

Upon exiting this glorious rest stop, I thought that I should strive to make all other public restroom appearances so pleasant, but I knew my goal was unattainable.  Everything about public restrooms pisses me off, pardon the pun.  I don’t know if this holds true for women’s restrooms, but in a man’s restroom, everything is soaked from the floor to the ceiling.  It makes me think:  A) The Janitor went mop happy or B) Some guys can’t control the tallywacker.  Neither of these is pleasant, though choice A is more reaffirming than choice B.  I think it’s a combination of the 2, because one glance at the floor around the toilet makes B very evident, yet B cannot apply to the ceiling being soaked, at least I hope not.  All restrooms smell like soap and urine, and it never stops making me keel over and want to die.

Speaking of soap, they all smell the same, I think the FDA decided that there would be a universal scent for soaps; "inner City Morning" (AKA pure ass).  It has a pinkish, brownish, clearish look to it, and a runny, yet firm feel to it.  I try not to touch anything in the restrooms, and I know that even the soap is somehow dirty, maybe some punk teenagers spit in it or old people sneezed in it, but how can soap be dirty?  Trust me, there’s a way, and public restrooms reach that goal.  Then comes the means of drying your hands:  Blow drying, paper towels, and that filthy roll that EVERYONE has to use.  I prefer blow drying, since I just have to hit the button that’s already been hit by people who have already washed their hands.  Paper towels aren’t too bad, though they do make quite a mess around the garbage can, and then there’s the roll.  I can’t stand the roll thing, I dry my hands in my hair rather than use the roll on which hundreds of murderous hitch hikers have dried their satanic mitts.  I just can’t comprehend how that would promote the cleanliness of my hands.

So my advice to you fellow Americans is this:  Hold it.  If you can last the 10 minutes at the restaurant and the 15 minute ride home in order to avoid using public restrooms, do it at all costs.  If not you’ll be sitting at home with some unidentifiable disease that’s found only in Pennsylvania restrooms, and yes, it eats your liver.