Subject: Public Restrooms !!
>
>
>It is not the destination but the journey
>
>
> > When you have to visit a public
> > bathroom, you usually find a
> > line of women, so you smile politely and take
> > your place.
> > Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the
> > stall
> > doors. Every stall is occupied.
> >
> > Finally, a door opens and you
> > dash in, nearly knocking down
> > the woman leaving the stall.
> >
> > You get
> > in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't
> > matter,
> > the wait has been so
> > long you are about to wet your pants!
> >
> > The dispenser for the modern
> > "seat covers" (invented by
> > someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.
> > You would hang
> > your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but
> > there
> > isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it
> > around your
> > neck,
> > (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it o
> > n
> > the FLOOR!), yank down
> > your pants and assume "The Stance."
> >
> > In this position your aging,
> > toneless thigh muscles begin to
> > shake.
> >
> > You'd love to sit down, but
> > you certainly hadn't taken time
> > to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it,
> > so you hold "The
> > Stance."
> >
> > To take your mind off your trembling
> > thighs, you reach for
> > what you discover to be the empty toilet paper
> > dispenser. In
> > your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying,
> > "Honey,
> > if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have
> > KNOWN
> > there
> > was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.
> >
> > You remember the tiny
> > tissue that you blew your nose on
> > yesterday-the one that's still in your
> > purse. (Oh yeah, the
> > purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold
> > up
> > trying
> > not to strangle yourself at the same time). That
> > would have
> > to
> > do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible.
> >
> > It's still smaller
> > than your thumbnail. Someone pushes your
> > door open because the latch
> > doesn't work. The door hits your
> > purse, which is hanging around your neck
> > in front of your
> > chest, and you and your purse topple backward
> > against
> > the
> > tank of the toilet.
> >
> > "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the
> > door, dropping
> > your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on
> > the
> > floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto
> > the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course. You bolt up,
> > knowing all too well
> > that it's too late.
> >
> > Your bare bottom has made contact with every
> > imaginable germ
> > and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU
> > never
> > laid
> > down toilet paper- not that there was any, even if
> > you had
> > taken
> > time to try. You know that your mother would be
> > utterly appalled if she
> > knew, because you're certain her
> > bare bottom never touched a public toilet
> > seat because,
> > frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of
> > diseases
> > you could get."
> >
> > By this time, the automatic sensor on the
> > back of the toilet
> > is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream
> > of
> > water
> > like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that
> > sprays
> > a fine
> > mist of water that covers your butt and runs down
> > your legs and into your
> > shoes. The flush somehow sucks
> > everything down with such force that you
> > grab onto the empty
> > toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in
> > too. At
> > this point you give up.
> >
> > You're soaked by the spewing water
> > and the wet toilet seat.
> > You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum
> > wrapper you
> > found in your pocket and then slink out
> > inconspicuously
> > to
> > the sinks.
> >
> > You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with
> >
> > the
> > automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit
> > and a
> > dry paper
> > towel and walk past the line of women, still
> > waiting. You are no longer
> > able to smile politely to them. A
> > kind soul at the very end of the line
> > points out a piece of
> > toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was
> > that
> > when
> > you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe,
> > plunk it
> > in the
> > woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just
> > might need
> > this."
> >
> > As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since
> >
> > entered
> > , used and left the men's rest-room. Annoyed, he
> > asks,
> > "What
> > took you so long, and why is your purse hanging
> > around
> > your
> > neck?"
> >
> > This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with
> > a
> > public rest-room (rest??? you've got to be
> > kidding!!).
> >
> > It finally
> > explains to the men what really does take us so
> > long. It also answers their
> > other commonly asked questions
> > about why women go to the rest-room in
> > pairs. It's so the
> > other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse
> > and
> > hand
> > you Kleenex under the door!
> >
> > This HAD to be written by a woman!
> > No one else could
> > describe it so
> > accurately!
