This has been building for a while

I hate being spat upon by public toilets. I don't mean to discriminate here. If a private toilet spat on me, I would hate that too. It's just that I've never been subject to this particular affront by a private toilet. No, as of now, it is only public toilets that take away my flushing autonomy and subject me to the particularized delight of haivng toilet water spew onto my bare nether regions as I pee. Or reach into my bag to grab a tampon. Or breath, as of late.

Just today I have been spat upon 6 times. I've gone to the bathroom THREE times. So, the excess water usage we're talking about is 3 flushes. Three wasted flushes. Unless, of course, toilets are the new bidets. And let me just say, if that's the plan, it's a bad one. Toilets should NOT be bidets. Things should go INTO a toilet, not come out of it. That seems like it would be a pretty general understanding, but clearly the automatic flush makers missed the memo. Because they're sending water shooting out of the toilet at double the necessary rate.

And I reject the imposition on my right to choose. Using the bathroom is a very private activity. I might go so far as to say that it is one of the most private activities in which I engage, aside from the fact that I have to regularly engage in it within 2 feet of random strangers. I oppose the implication that I am unable to make the choice for myself when (and if) I choose to flush. I'll address several arguments that may be fueling the automatic flushing movement:

1. Some people don't flush, so automatic flushing saves others from having to see their refuse.
It's true. Some people don't flush. Shame on them. They should be punished. Spew toilet water onto their asses. But, as of now, I am getting punished for their inability to flush. As much as I hate to walk into a stall with a toilet full of someone else's stuff, I prefer it to a wet butt.

2. Flushing the toilet requires touching the flush handle, and that's unsanitary.
True. Sort of. I am perfectly capable of grabbing a wad of toilet paper and using it to flush a toilet. I've done it before; I'll do it again. And other people can make that same choice if they'd like. But you know what's really unsanitary? Wildly spewing toilet water.

3. Automatic flushing creates ease of use for everyone.
It's true that automatic flushing is easier than having to turn around and flush the toilet yourself. However, I recommend a balancing test here. The benefit of ease of use must be weighed against any hygienic detriments. For instance, the benefit of ease of use associated with automatic faucets clearly outweighs any hygienic detriments. It removes the unsanitary element of touching the faucet handles. The automatic flushing is totally different. With automatic flushing, there's an addition of hygienic detriments. The aforementioned spitting problem.

Based on these arguments, it is clear to me (and should be clear to you) that automatic flushing toilets in their current state of functioning should be banished. I'll let you know if I figure out who to talk to about this.

Surprise Surprise!

I walked into the bathroom, walked to my usual stall (there are three – mine’s the one furthest left), and sat down for a standard pee. There was one other person in the bathroom – in the stall furthest right. One stall between us.

So I start to pee and Surpoot!

That’s right – a surprise poot. Completely unexpected. Poot! Just like that. Not a fart – just a poot – kind of like the sound of a bee bee gun, maybe?

Of course, I clench up reflexively in the Holy-God-I’ve-Made-a-Sound-In-A-Public-Restroom-Other-Than-My-Urine-Hitting-the-Toilet-Bowl-Water kind of way. The stream of pee stops.

And then from the other stall: “Hey, I heard that! You – in the far stall – I heard that poot!...... Why are you trying to be so quiet?....... I can hear you breathing!”




Okay, so obviously that didn’t happen.

There was no noise from the other stall. But I knew she was thinking it.

My eyes began to water from holding back the pee. My legs quivered from the hovering.

The bathroom was silent.

What to do now? Pee and risk another poot? Hold it in and hope that she’ll leave? Wipe and zip up and leave and come back later?


Okay, the second two really aren’t options. I’m going to break. Do you know how hard it is to be in a bathroom and NOT pee?




Dear Reader, believe me when I say that I had no choice.

So I peed. And pooted. Poot. Poot. Poot….poot….poot.

And then I wiped so fast, flushed, and tore out of the stall. I wanted to run straight for the door, but I couldn’t have her thinking that I was a DIRTY public bathroom pooter.

So I forced myself to wash my hands. And just as I was grabbing a paper towel, she flushed the toilet. Aaagh!

I ran – yes, a sad The-Person-Who-Heard-Me-Poot-In-A-Public-Restroom-Is-Going-To-Come-Out-Of-The-Stall-And-See-My-Face kind of run-shuffle out of the bathroom.

But she doesn’t know who I am, and I don’t know who she is. And, because of this, I will hopefully be able to use that restroom again and not have to resort to keeping a pee can under my desk.



Hat tip to Petunia Face. Ah, the irony. I had just read her post.