PUBLIC TOILET DISCOVERIES...

So, it would be fair to say that some people, when they’re out and about shopping, or whatever, find the need to utilise public facilities.

Considering my bladder is the size of a flea, and my bowels are as reliable as the Gillard government (who I will point out, like my bowels, is also full of shit), I find myself in the unfortunate position of having to use public facilities ALL THE TIME.

My bodily functions are so inconsiderate.  You would think when I’m driving, or shopping or visiting a friend, that they could at least control themselves long enough to give me some peace.  Alas, no.  When my body demands the evacuation of waste, I MUST listen.

As such, I know where every public (and not so public) toilet is from Tooborac to Sunshine, to Dandenong, to Geelong, to Shepparton.  I know them all, and the standard of facilities that they offer.

So, I believe I have become quite an aficionado of the public toilet.  I have standards and expectations of these facilities, and find myself rating them upon use.

However, at the end of the day, when one is desperate, one cannot afford to be fussy.  A choice between public disgrace or soaking your entire body in a bath of disinfectant is really easy, I feel.

Gathering and assessing all of my accumulated knowledge and experience with public toilets, I have formulated a list of the six things I hate about them, for your enhanced wisdom.

1.                   Crappy Toilet Paper

Please pardon the pun, but I do hate crappy toilet paper.  This is my number one pet hate.

The common standard throughout most public facilities is that useless rubbish that insists on falling apart at even the slightest indication of moisture. 

Wiping myself with my bare hand, although disgusting, would be more effective.   In fact, I cannot think of a single thing that this flimsy excuse for toilet paper would actually be useful for, as it’s certainly not serving ANY purpose in the public toilet scene.

Clearly, it was either created by a male who was more interested in cost cutting that providing an adequate service, or it was imported from some Asian country, where they decorate it with edible paint, and wrap it around sweets, as it dissolves the instant it hits your tongue.  I think they call that rice paper.

In fact, I am quite distraught at the thought of having to use ‘public toilet paper’, that not only have I made hand sanitiser a necessity in my handbag, but am seriously contemplating carrying either baby wipes or a full roll of three ply with me, so I’m never caught out again.

Some people say that having no toilet paper in the cubicle is horrendous (particularly when discovered too late), but I would disagree.  At least with no toilet paper, you would be clean and dry.

2.                  Peek-A-Boo

Is it really that much of a cost saving to the owners of these public facilities, whether they are shopping centres, restaurants or roadhouses, to not have the toilet cubicle fully enclosed? 

I don’t have a foot gap at the bottom of my toilet door at home.  Nor do the walls stop about three feet from the ceiling.  Nor do I have a one centimetre gap around the actual door, allowing me to clearly see into the wash area, where people are applying their friggin lipstick. 

FULLY ENCLOSED PLEASE.

I feel exposed when I use these half finished toilets, and I swear, the next time I see a two year old stick their head under the cubicle to have a look at me, I shall kick them in the face, I shall. 

It’s clear, again, that these structures were designed by men, because unlike men, women do not want to be standing there comparing body parts or peeing for distance.  We like privacy.  Finish building the cubicles, please.

3.            Disposable Comfort

Now personally, I think that this is a big-chick thing.  When I sit on the toilet, my big arse takes up a little more room than a skinny arse.  Let’s just say, that I’m at NO risk of falling into the bowl.

However, when I sit on the toilet, I don’t appreciate the sanitary disposal bin jabbing me in the arse.  The damn thing is crammed into the corner, ‘for our convenience’, and takes up as much room as I do.  In fact, some cubicles that I have utilised are so small, that I’ve actually had to pull the disposal unit out of the way to sit on the toilet!  WTF?  Surely I’m not that big?

I need room to do my business, people, and this is an ever clear reminder that these facilities were designed by men who have looked at the grand design and said ‘let’s just shove one of those cork bins in the corner.  That’ll do.’  Pffft.

3.                  Signs

Some public toilets have advertising frames on the back of the cubicle doors.  This in itself doesn’t bother me, but why not put something more relevant on there?  I don’t want to know about genital warts, incontinence pads, hangover cures or travel luggage. 

Tell me what specials are going on in the centre.  Where I can get a good feed.  Put a recipe up there; the gossip page of New Idea; I don’t fucken know.  Anything but medical stuff, because I’m certainly not going to rush to the pharmacy for genital wart cream because I saw it on the back of a toilet door.  Though… maybe….

4.                  Drying Times

I hate hand dryers.  I hate them to my very core.  I hate being in public toilets as it is, because I have to come into close proximity to the great unwashed, so having to drag the experience out even longer whilst I dry my friggin hands is like a nightmare.

                Water, soap, paper hand towels; gone.  That’s the way it should roll.

I don’t care if it’s killing a tree or causing more waste.  Use paper hand towels, God damn it.  At least they can be recycled.  The copious amounts of black balloons that these useless hand dryers produce would far outweigh the crop of trees chopped down in Peru to make these hand towels.  Surely?

So here comes the hand sanitiser again.  Unless of course I’ve had to tolerate crappy toilet paper, because then I need to wash, dry and still use hand sanitiser, because clearly, I’ve become a germaphobe.

I actually exchanged words with a stupid teenager in the toilets at a shopping centre one day, because I came out of the toilet and used my hand sanitiser straight away.  She actually said to me: ‘Like, you didn’t wash your hands…’ 

And I was like: ‘Well, unlike you, I’m toilet trained, and can wipe myself without getting it all over my hands.’ I showed her my sanitizer.  ‘This stuff is hand sanitiser.  It kills all of the bugs and germs on your hands.  It’s more effective than washing your hands.’  She looked a little blank, so I thought it a great opportunity to mess with her head, as you would. 

‘See, what you don’t realise, is that you walk out of the toilet, and touch the taps which everyone else has touched.  Then you wash your hands and turn off the taps that everyone else has touched.  Then you dry them on the dryer that everyone else has touched.  Can you guarantee that the person before you has washed their hands properly?  Has anyone washed the fucken taps?  No.  So, hand sanitizer for me, because I’ll get more germs off the taps than from my clacka.  Not that it’s any business of yours, anyway.’

I look back to that day, and I genuinely believe that not only did I successfully mess with her head, but I handed the world another germaphobe.

5.                  The Mess

There is nothing worse than walking into dirty toilets. However, this can be caused by many things.

People that have dropped toilet paper on the floor (because clearly, it’s too hard to get into the massive bowl in the middle of the cubicle). 

The ones that haven’t flushed properly, and what’s under the mass of paper in the unflushed bowl is frightening, so you move to the next cubicle. 

Water splashed ALL OVER the wash area.  How does so much water get over the basins and vanities anyway?  Seriously? Do you leave that kind of watery mess at home?  I doubt it.  So who the fuck does it? 

I have gone into toilets and seen smear marks on the walls.  Smear marks of things that I shouldn’t mention, but you know what I’m talking about.  Gross *vomits a little in mouth*

Shopping centres need to keep on top of this a lot more, particularly at Christmas time, where there are like ten times the number of people in the centre and using the facilities.  With children.

6.                  The Cleaners

I hate using the facilities when the cleaners are in there.  Sometimes, the centre will close the entire block of toilets whilst the cleaners do their thing.  Other times, the cleaners will work around the public.

I have actually been sitting on a toilet whilst a mop has come under my door (because the cubicles designed by men are not finished properly) and cleaned the floor.  The mop actually touched my foot, which resulted in my yelping in horror, then having a germophobic meltdown at the cleaner when I emerged.

Aside from that, I don’t want someone seeing me enter and leave the cubicle, and know what I did whilst I was in there.  Toilets are places of secret women’s business.  What happens in the toilet, stays in the toilet.  I don’t like cleaners judgemental eyes following you as you slink out of the block. 

The second you’re out of eye sight, they’ll sneak in and check that you flushed away your business, and didn’t leave a mess behind.

So, I think the mission for me during 2012, is to teach my body to wait.  Wait until I get home (yes, I go before I leave). 

However, I think this’ll just be a massive FAIL. *sigh* I think I’ll just start writing reviews on public toilets and rating them, cos I will never not need them. 

Maybe I should just be thankful that they’re there, in all their poorly designed, squashy, arse jabbing, useless toilet paper and no paper hand towels way.

Germophobic peace out.