Toilet talk

One of the great mysteries of life is why women always go to the bathroom in packs. There are many theories about why this is. In my own musings, I just assume that females go in packs for support. Now to clarify "support." If some of the women's bathrooms are like the guys bathrooms, then I would assume in order to complete the transaction, they just don't want to sit on the toilet. I don't blame them, I prefer home field advantage when I want to complete a major transaction. I really don't want to "dock with the mother ship," if you know what I mean. I would want some assistance when coping a squat and I just assume that's what they are doing. It just makes the most sense to me.

I am here today to dispel one of the great myths about guys when they hit the Head. (By the way, the term Head comes from the Navy. That's what the shitters are called on the high seas." The is sort of a true story about what happened to me the other day when I went into my office's bathroom to see a man about a dog.

I walked into the bathroom, politely called the restroom, I have come to find out since leaving West Virginia. (In polite society, one should really refrain from calling it a brick shit house.) I digress, I walked into the bathroom, excuse me restroom and and had to wait in line. Now there are three stalls built in to accommodate heavy traffic. Problem is, there is just one Urinal. Since I just needed to complete a minor transaction, I decided to wait in line instead of going into one of the stalls for more privacy. This is just guy etiquette. Now if you really have to go in a hurry and everything is backed up, the sink is acceptable, but only in dire situations and the transgressor is required by state law to wipe it down afterwards.

The guy at the pisser was just finishing up when I entered. He glanced over his shoulder at me but did not say a word. Now rule number one, and probably the cardinal rule of male bathroom etiquette. You Never NEVER ever talk to the guy standing next to you. If you are in a stall that's one thing, but you never talk to another guy when he has his hand on the "Wedding Tackle." This rule was observed and he flushed and then stepped to the side, closed up shop and started to wash his hands. I bellied up to the starting point and started to get down to business when he started to talk. I wanted to scream at him, I had lost my concentration and couldn't start until he shut up. I did not back away from the urinal but let him say what he wanted to say. "That water is cold." he said going to one of the oldest jokes in the book. I was aggravated, but fired back, "And deep." He stopped drying his hands and just walked out without saying another word.

I again started to undo the proverbial barn door when in walked a good buddy of mine. This individual has a disability in which he cannot see. This has not stopped him from becoming one of the most productive people in my agency. He also prefers the handicapped stall for the room and ease of movement. I tend to agree, if I am in public and need some privacy, I always head to the handicapped stalls, there is just so much more room in there. He grunted to me as he entered and I started my business. I heard the toilet flush in the stall but it just did not sound right. There was just no gurgling from the bowl like I expected. He then asked me to come into the stall with him to check it out. I asked if his pants were down and he answered no. I shot back, "well mine are so you will have to wait for a second, I am not coming in there if you're sporting wood." He just laughed and said that he wasn't.

I finished up my business, washed my hands and then headed into the stall where he was at. I peeked around the door and saw that the toilet was just about ready to overflow. The flushing mechanism was not working, but thank goodness, there weren't any floaters to cause any "issues." He asked if he could use it and I told him, "Go ahead if you want to give the twins a bath, the water is up to the top of the bowl." He laughed and walked away from it. He went over to the other stall and sat down.

I hung in the bathroom for a second longer just to make sure there were no problems when I heard him say, "I hate using this stall, it feels like I am sitting on a toilet." I paused for a second to make sure he understood what he said and the I said, "No shit Sherlock, what did you think it was, a throne? You know they just call it that, it's not really." He laughed again and harder this time.

He called me a nut and I walked out to face the rest of the day. Now this all really seems to be an extremely powerful and moving drama about the inner workings of a working men's bathroom. I will admit his is little or nothing to do with the rest of my day, but I enjoyed my brief couple of minutes in my own little zen induced paradise. Yea it smells funny at times, but this is the only place a guy can be completely alone with his thoughts and NO, no one has ever tapped their foot under the stall door at me. GO HOME LARRY CRAIG.