When You've Gotta Go

There used to be a Pepto Bismol commercial that started with a nervous man saying, "I'm here to talk to you about... diarrhea. Don't change the channel!" That's kind of how I feel right now. I'm going to talk about public restrooms. Please don't leave.

I'm going to let you know, too, right up front, that I'm going to be talking about how other countries do this better than we do.

On the one hand, I tend to dislike and dismiss people who whine that this or that place is better than here - wherever here is. It's pretentious, and begs the question, "Then why aren't you there?"

On the other hand, something that's far more annoying, and damaging, is clinging to an idea or practice that doesn't work, just because it's "ours," and "this is how we do things here." The inability to assess, learn from, and implement new ideas is crippling, personally and societally.

So let's talk about how other countries handle public restrooms better than we do.

Let's start with the name. We call these rooms "restrooms," but there's no resting being done in them. It's a ridiculous, inaccurate euphemism, because we're apparently too embarrassed to discuss the fact that we have bodily functions. It makes us, collectively, look like we're children.

I remember the first time I heard the term "restroom." I was a child, and I was in a restaurant with my family. We didn't eat out often, so this was not an ordinary occurrence; I wasn't used to the way things worked. My mother got up and left the table, which puzzled me, especially when she didn't come right back.

"Where's Mom?" I asked Dad.

"She's in the restroom."

A whole room for resting? That sounded great. As a kid I didn't take naps (I make up for that now), but I've always been easily exhausted by crowds, noise, excessive human interaction (even when it's positive and fun), so it was easy for me to imagine that Mom had just reached the point that she needed a room in soothing blues and greens, with soft music, chaises and cold compresses. I mean, who doesn't? But at a restaurant? In the middle of lunch?

"Could I go, too?"

"Do you have to?"

"Well, I don't have to, but I could."

I was so disappointed. The "restroom" was a tiny room with two toilet stalls and a sink, in faded white paint. No potted plants, no gentle flower fragrance, no resting. Just cramped toilet stalls in gunmetal gray.

We make fun of other countries' euphemisms - oh, those silly British and their "water closets." Hey, it's a tiny room with plumbing - "water closet" is a far more accurate description than "restroom."

Most other countries get it right - if you need to tend to your bodily elimination functions, you ask for the toilets, or look for the sign that says "toilet." Straightforward, no childish snickering, the way humans should act.

The other obvious way in which other countries get it right is their stall doors and walls. Last year, we took a trip that took us across 8 countries, and do you know what every non-US nation had? Actual doors and walls in their stalls, as in up to the ceiling, down to the floor, doors that close fully. Genius!

The most obvious advantage is that they didn't have to close the facilities for cleaning, no matter what sex the janitor was. My children mock my bladder, and tell me that I have the bladder of a two year old, because I need toilet facilities frequently. I tell them that they can talk to me after their bladder has been squashed by repeated pregnancies, as well as fibroids up to the size of a cantaloupe. But the thing is, I have been deeply inconvenienced on numerous occasions by really needing a restroom, and having it closed for cleaning. AUGH! The first time I was in a public restroom while a man was cleaning it, I was surprised and then delighted. It was fantastic! He didn't have to wait for me, and I didn't have to wait for him! Woo hoo!

Another plus is the added privacy. I remember being seriously stressed when I was in a fast food restaurant during a road trip, in one of those towns that is two hours or more from the next town, so the facilities are packed. We were in year 5 of an extensive drought, with reservoirs and rivers dry, and serious water rationing in place. A woman using the toilet insisted that those of us waiting run the faucets in the sink, so that we couldn't hear what she was doing. I wanted to scream, "We KNOW what you're doing! Especially if the sound of water will muffle it! We're all here to do the exact same thing! There's only two real purposes for this room! If you're doing something not intended, please find somewhere else to do it!" But I didn't. I just watched the water run down the drain as my blood pressure rose. There is no reason to waste finite resources because you are embarrassed by ordinary bodily functions. Solid walls and doors will let those people avoid the waste.

That leads me to a third advantage - it's not soundproof, but it's a whole lot harder to hear or smell what your neighbor is doing, which should make both of you more comfortable. And no more worrying about how awkward the open row of urinals is.

Yet another advantage, in my opinion, is that it should also end the need for sex segregated facilities. If I, and everyone else, are in our own room, there's no reason for us to worry about who's in the next room. No more worrying about the fact that the line in the ladies' room is always longer than the line in the men's room. No more stressing about which restroom transgender people should use. (Having spent their lives with enclosed facilities, Europeans probably think that Americans sound silly arguing about that.)

I really have little patience for the reasons people have given me to not like full doors and walls.

One is, "But I also want to arrange my clothes, and fix my hair and makeup." Fix your clothes behind the door, and quit worrying that fixing your hair and makeup are acts that you must hide from others. Seriously.

"You don't want things totally enclosed like that, because child molestation and sexual assaults will go up!" Wow; if you seriously believe that the only reason people are not assaulting others is the gaps in stall walls, you have a view of humanity that deeply concerns me. You are also advocating a society in which it is impossible, and inadvisable, to have any privacy in public, and I am not a fan. You're also overlooking the fact that many public restrooms, in places like parks, end up closed or with restricted hours because of frequent prostitution taking place there, with the gaps in the stalls. I'm not making this up; it happens in my area more often than I want to think about. Trashy behavior does not depend on walls.

Plus, many foreign restrooms have a small fee for usage, and with that, they often pay attendants. There will be far fewer shenanigans of any kind with watchful eyes in place. (It also means that the rooms are comparatively spotless and well stocked.)

"But the construction will cost more." I don't think that cancels out the plusses, but if you do, again, usage fees. Plus, drywall is cheap, and doesn't have to be custom manufactured.

Yes, finding coins in order to pee can be annoying, but obviously, there are advantages. And, you can install card readers, like those on parking meters.

The only thing other countries don't do better: water fountains next to the restrooms. The only time I have ever been more dehydrated on a vacation than I was this last trip, I required medical attention. Water, people! Free water! You have the plumbing already in place! Most of the restroom sinks were even too shallow for me to refill my water bottle in them.

There you have it: the recipe for perfect public toilet facilities. Listen up, America!

Kids Your Age

One of the things that I didn't understand about adults when I was a child was their assumption that all kids would, or should, get along.  I hated it when they'd pitch some event to me by saying, "There will be kids your age there!" Then they'd look either expectant or pleased, obviously thinking that they'd just provided me with instant friends. It was baffling.

I wondered how they had forgotten what it was like to be a kid. Did all kids their age automatically get along with them? I assumed that the answer had to be "no." Then why would they assume that all kids my age would like me?

I've never mixed easily or well with other people. It's a skill that eludes me. And, especially as a kid, I was the odd, badly dressed one with body odor who didn't laugh at the standard jokes; no one really gravitated toward me. If I was going to get along with other people, they were generally adults, who liked my rule following, studious nature.

Saying, "There will be kids your age" translated to me as, "It will be really uncomfortable, and kids will make fun of you."

When I'm an adult, I thought, I'll remember, and I won't assume that all kids will love each other, just because they're kids.

So, of course, my children frequently wanted to know, "Will there be kids my age there?"

Again, I was baffled. And my older kids especially were annoyed when I'd say, "There will be kids there," but couldn't specify that there would be kids their ages there. My homeschooled younger two were used to hanging out with kids who might be a mix of three or four years older to three or four years younger, but that's not what life is like in public schools. Two of my high school best friends are three months older than I am, but they were in the grade above me. Several of my other best friends were between 7 and 10 months younger than I was, but because they were in my grade, they counted as "my age," whereas the kids a grade above me were "older."  My older kids were frequently annoyed that there were no kids in their exact grade or their exact number - age 7, 10, 15, whatever - at any given function.

That's OK, I thought. They'll grow up and get over it, and realize that age is not really a big deal. (And to an extent, they did, because most people do.)

When I was in my late 20s or early 30s, I was talking to a friend from church who was probably in her 70s. She had been gone when the leaders announced an event - I think it was a dinner - for our congregation, so I and another friend, a few years older than I, were making sure that she knew about it. "That sounds fun," she said. "And I don't mean to be rude, but do you know - will there be people my age there?"

I probably looked stunned. She was afraid that she'd hurt my feelings, I think, because she was very quick to explain - "I mean, you young people are nice. I enjoy being around young people; it keeps me young. But sometimes, I just need to be around people my own age. They understand me. They've experienced the same things I've experienced, and they remember the same things I do."

"Oh, of course." I assured her that there would be people her age there, and sincerely hoped that there would be. Then I went home pondering the fact that here was obviously another instance where I'd interpreted the rest of humanity incorrectly. Or had I? What if other people her age didn't feel the same way?

I watched people. I asked people. People of different ages. And holy cow, there are a significant number of people who feel most comfortable with other people close to their own age. And the people I asked thought that this was obvious.

It just had never been my personal experience. Who knew it was everyone else's? I mean, what about all that talk about age being just a number?

It's just me, isn't it?