By Sarah Richards
When I see lines of people waiting to get into Best Buy on Black Friday, I always wonder if they’re by themselves, and if so, how do they go to the bathroom? Do they wear adult diapers or do they fast? Do they call for backup?
Bathrooms are awesome.
Growing up, if my family and I were on the road, we always stopped at McDonald’s to do our business (if not do business) because the bathrooms were usually clean. (We would probably need a permission slip at Starbucks now, though maybe a tall latte would buy us a few minutes of peeing privileges.)
Whenever I get to wherever I’m going, I always have to go, which is rather annoying. That’s what happens when you drink a lot of water—just like you try to eat healthy and get e-coli from the lettuce, but no ramifications from the greasy burger.
Which is why I’m happy that the Writing Lab is now in Building 4.
Going to the bathroom in Building 1 (if you’re unlucky enough to be at the Math Lab on Sunday) is like going into one of those gas station bathrooms where you have to use a key attached to a jacked-up hubcap.
That said, there are other campus bathrooms that could use a little attention to detail.
If you’re using the tutoring lab in Building 6, you want to be careful and not shut the door too hard in the handicapped stall of the ladies’ room because the sanitary napkin receptacle will fall off and give you a jolt. You also want to wash your hands very fast, as the water stays on for about two seconds (and that’s not the two-second rule you want to follow).
There are certain things all bathrooms should have, like lots of TP. I haven’t sat on a bare toilet seat in a public place since, well, since I was a little girl and Grandma told me not to. You know those passive-aggressive little signs like “If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie?” Well, if the seat is dry, there might be dried pee you can’t see.
I need at least six sheets of separation.
I get really pissed (pardon the pun) when you can’t get the toilet paper out, and it just comes off in squares—the amount Sheryl Crow says you should use to save the environment.
And then you have those people who like to leave their calling card; I always skip that stall.
Honestly, a stall should have a shelf (or a hook somewhere) for you to hang your purse and any other belongings, so you don’t have to put them on the floor; they should also have doors that you can push, not pull, to get in.
Building 4 has windowsills in their handicapped stalls (can you tell I love handicapped stalls?) to set your stuff. Hopefully, a real handicapped person won’t be giving you the stinkeye when you get out.
Building 4 also has hand dryers, but no paper towel dispenser in the handicapped stall.
At least you can push the door open with your foot. Pull dirty, push clean. That’s how all main bathroom doors should be.
The library’s bathrooms are some of the best on campus. The gym (when it’s actually open) works in a pinch, though when you walk in, the people there can tell you aren’t working out, and you feel like a fattie.
Sometimes, in Building 14, you come across the Post-Its from the Active Minds group (like “You are awesomesauce!”) stuck to the bathroom mirror like mini pep talks. This makes the bathroom more interesting.
Powerful flushers, hand-drying choices, faucets that aren’t on a timer, and hooks galore are the hallmarks of a great bathroom anywhere.
During those times that you have just fifteen minutes between classes, it’s nice to have a place to park and unload where you don’t feel like you’ve just left Wal-Mart at three in the morning.
That’s the rundown for the women’s bathrooms. As for the men’s, I really couldn’t say. We haven’t become that gender-fluid yet.