I hate warm toilet seats. I’d rather take care of business sitting on a cold seat, any day of the week, and here are my reasons.
With a cold toilet seat, you can be assured… a big chunk of time has elapsed between your upcoming session and someone’s else’s, previous session. You’re not immediately following in another person’s footsteps. Trace elements have had time to dissipate, the air has returned to it’s natural Pine-Sol fragrance, and with any luck…an attendant has dropped by with a mop.
Warm toilet seats, on the other hand, hold the real likelihood, that you’ve come uncomfortably close to a foreign, skin-to-skin, cheek-to-cheek, butt contact. If the telltale, sometimes inevitable, butt sweat should happen to be present, it probably means you just passed the guy, outside in the hall. Hope it wasn’t that fat guy with a zit on his nose.
On the subject of butt sweat, one place in particular comes to mind. It’s those concrete out-houses you find in parks and campgrounds. I might be a prude, but I dislike those open-bay type bathrooms. You know the type I mean. They’re made from concrete blocks, the MEN’s on one side, WOMEN’s on the other. The bathrooms don’t have regular type doors, you just walk around a block wall and there they are…. the stalls.
The stalls do have doors, but there’s not much sound-proofing. You pretty-much can hear everything that goes on, on BOTH SIDES of the wall. When there’s a lot of talking and family stuff going on, I don’t usually have a hard time coping. It’s when the voices stop and silence ensues that I become…well….self conscious.
It starts with the coughing. There’s always coughing. Then it gets worse. The other noises start. Most of the people have left, but I can hear faintly, the toilet paper roller from the other side of the wall, and more coughing. I’m not alone and it’s gotten quiet in here…too quiet.
Just as “my business” starts to commence, the other person, probably sitting just on the other side of the wall, starts first. The sound of “tinkling” water is followed by a loud “POOT”…a cough…then more tinkling water…a louder “POOT”….plop, plop—–splashing water, and it’s quiet again, much to my displeasure, for I haven’t attended to my own business yet.
At this point, my mind starts working overtime, instead of just “going ahead on” normally, my self conscious stigma shows it’s ugly self and ideas start squirming around in my head. (If I can hear them, then they can hear me.) What if they saw me come in here and know who I am? What if the people OUTSIDE can hear…start swapping looks, hanging around, waiting in a group…waiting …to see the identity of the magnificent maestro who orchestrated the “poot” and pee symphony. Who knows. He might come out and take a bow?
Maybe I can “hold-on“..until the other person gets up and leaves…BUT..I have to go…I have to go BAD……NOW. Nope. That won’t work. I can’t stop. If I can’t hold it…maybe I can do it quietly. Have you ever tried to fart silently?
After a few minutes, the sound of a stall door opening……footsteps….I’m alone again. Thank God.
Luckily, My particular business has been concluded and I can get the hell out of here.
The crowd outside (if there is one), will probably think the guy that just walked out, was the one making all that commode commotion.
I’m off the hook.
#$@%& and @*&%$.
There’s no damn toilet paper!
C. Allen Benson