This past weekend I was entertaining the masses and promoting my book at the Cincinnati Comic Expo. It was great show! I met lots of wonderful people and made quite a few new fans. To be honest, I really thought I was going to rack my brain to come up with something to rant about today.
Maybe, I thought, I was going to rail against my own dependence on technology and the absolute panic created when my phone had a catastrophic failure on Saturday, leaving me without navigation, email, phone calls, the ability to run credit cards, and the impending loss of all my pictures and videos that I had taken over the past month.
But oh no… Humanity never fails to shove an even better topic up my nose when I most need it!
A little bit of background on the situation here. I travel to a lot of shows throughout the year. I perform at outdoor shows with port-a-johns, at shows with cabins that have a pair of toilets, showers, and sinks for sixteen performers to share, at shows where you are expected to do your business in a bucket and cover the result with sawdust, at hotels where their seems to be an attendant on staff for every restroom in the place, and at convention centers where the line out the men’s bathroom is longer that the one coming out the ladies door. I must consume a lot of water while working, both to stay hydrated in the heat and to keep my vocal cords lubricated so that they do not wear out from talking to folks all day long. A lot of water! Which means, I unfortunately have to visit the public restrooms multiple times during the day.
I also have, in case you had not realized or were just to polite to mention it, a very large nose. A nose that seems to channel more smells to its interior, hold them there, and amplify these aromas to an overwhelming degree. A nose that is is impossible to squeeze shut with a pinch of my fingers, though can be plugged by stuffing my fingertips inside the nostrils. Due to the nature of my clothing, particular snaps and buttons, an apron full of important papers with presidents on them, and a tail, I am also unfortunately required to engage in an amusing bit of acrobatics to even use the facilities and must therefor limit myself to the privacy of an actual stall no matter what sort of relief I seek.
I should preface this next statement with the fact that I have never been inside the women’s restroom at a convention, but after this week, I just might risk it.
So gentlemen… WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?
I am absolutely certain, that there is no bloody friggen way you treat your bathroom at home the same way you treat the ones you use in public! You would have been murdered long before now if you did.
I really don’t know what sort of mass mental hallucination leads you to believe that there is something about a public bathroom that allows you to behave like uncivilized animals. Maybe it is something in the air-freshener. Maybe it is the need to seem more manly in a communal pissing contest. Perhaps some of you get a sick pleasure and sense of power in knowing that an underpaid, overworked, custodian has to clean up a mess that your wife or mother would eagerly disown you for. Maybe you got carried away in the whole super hero nature of the convention and figured that these must be Super Commodes?
I assure you that no indoor toilet ever made in the entirety of human history anywhere has the ability to flush a friggen PIZZA BOX down its three inch pipe! Neither can it accommodate a pair of underwear, clean or otherwise, or an entire industrial roll of toilet paper!
The graffiti on the walls indicates that they are not in fact magically self cleaning, but you are not doing anyone any favors by hosing the stall down in a complete 360 degree arc while standing on the toilet seat!
I assume you must be standing, for there is no other conceivable way to leave feces BEHIND the actual bowl of the toilet. Sit down and I assure you that everything will end up where it is supposed to be…
To those evidently new to the world of indoor plumbing, but somehow managed to understand that your feet should remain on the floor, thank you. Next please work on actually aiming for the water in the bowl, and not the fancy ring around the bowl. That is reserved for the people sitting down.
On an up note, it does seems that most gentlemen do not need a reminder to wash their hands after using the facilities. However, it does bear noting that wet paper towels belong in the garbage can. Not beside it. Not on the counter. And certainly not tossed idly back into the sink!
For the muscle men out there, when a door to a stall will not open, usually that is an indication that someone is inside. If in doubt, look down and see if you notice any shoes. I have never met anyone who left their shoes behind in the lavatory… Other things, certainly. Like friggen pizza boxes and underwear. But only an absolute idiot is going to walk across the floor they just peed all over with no shoes on. Regardless of if you see the shoes or not, when the door will not open, assume that it is in use. Use another stall! If there are no other ones, try knocking to check. Making the immediate assumption that the door must be stuck, and thus ripping it off its hinges in a Hulk like fashion, not only makes you look like an idiot but also scares the literal crap out of the little old man sitting inside and might just have given him a heart attack.
Regarding little old men with digestive problems… Maybe don’t consume the spicy chili at the convention center and stick to something safer, like the cheese donuts. Also note, that if the stench is making even you cough and gag, it is absolutely DESTROYING the people around you. Though you may sound like it, I really doubt that you are actually Pestilence, the White Horseman of the Apocalypse. For the love of all things holy, flush the toilet and make the stench go away as quickly as possible! Then get your wrinkled arse to a doctor. Seriously, there is something dead in there and it needs to be removed.
Lastly, to whomever broke the entire seat off the toilet in the last stall… I get the fact that you were embarrassed, I would be too. You were probably even pissed off at shoddy toilet craftsmanship, but that is really no excuse. The hook on the back of the door is for situations just like yours! It is a convenient place to hang the offending hardward and will perhaps serve as a silent apology to the repair man. Stuffing the seat inside the bowl is not going to hide the evidence of your destruction. No matter how many times you flush, it simply isn’t going to disappear.
Ladies, I hope no of you minds a goblin in their midst. Next convention, I am taking the civilized route. I even hear you have scented soaps and couches in there!