A Czar is born

Dear Mister President,

Please consider this my application for the not-yet-created-but-long-overdue position of Public Toilet Czar.

First allow me to explain why I feel I am most qualified for this not-yet-created-but-long-overdue position.

I have used public toilets all my life. I was raised by parents who have a great appreciation for bathrooms, in general. My dad spent an inordinate amount of time in there when I was growing up. And my Mom is a one-stop source for the cleanest public restrooms in town. And might I humbly add, sir, that I feel I have taken their neuroses to entirely new heights.

My best guesstimate says that over 99% of Americans will use a public toilet in his or her lifetime. That's nearly... seven-eighths of our entire population. (What? I'm the Public Toilet Czar, not the Math and Science Czar.) And while we've come a long way since the outhouse--well, except for the port-a-potty--we have a long way to go. I feel I am the only one to lead us down that porcelain and tile highway.

Just the other day I was in a convenience store men's room and the paper towel dispenser was empty. In the United States of America in the year 2009, this is inexcusable. Therefore, as my first act as Public Toilet Czar, it will be illegal for any business or other public facility to have a restroom with an empty paper towel dispenser.

Not only that, but all paper towel dispensers and faucets will be motion activated, thus negating the need for anyone to ever have to touch a germ-infested handle or lever again. And all hand blowers will be outlawed! For Pete's sake, we put a man on the moon--allegedly--surely we can eliminate the primitive practice of standing in a malodorous room for two minutes waiting for our hands to dry.

As my second order of business, I will require that all public toilet doors open outward. Nothing irks me more than washing my hands thoroughly, drying them, then realizing I have to grab a bacteria-riddled handle to open the door and exit the restroom. This is a matter of public health. No American should get sick simply because they use a public restroom. And while I look forward to working with Health and Human Services Secretary Sebelius on this, I estimate this simple act alone could cut down on the number of swine flu cases in this country by at least 0.01%.

The final part of my three-pronged plan as the new Czar de Johns will be to post my rules of male restroom etiquette (see enclosure) in every public restroom in this country. Anyone found to be violating these rules will be issued one warning. A second offense will result in capital punishment. Too harsh? OK, deportation. Still? Fine, a second offense will result in the offender being under public toilet arrest. This means they will be forced to wear a monitoring bracelet and will be banned from public toilets nationwide for a period of time to be determined by a one-man panel consisting of me. Just think of me as the Roger Goodell of toilets.

My plan can only work if everyone does their part. Therefore, businesses who install partitions between urinals will receive a tax credit. The same goes for those who display the USA Today under glass on the wall above the urinal. I spent ten minutes in there one day reading an enthralling story about Misty May and Kerri Walsh. Also, I will appoint a six-woman panel to come up with the rules of female restroom etiquette. They will also report back to me on why women take so long in there. Come on, sir, you know you're curious.

I feel a strong majority of Americans still want and support a public option for going to the restroom. Therefore I will not back down. My goal is to make each and every person feel as comfortable with going in a public toilet as they would be sitting in their own bathroom at home--one pant leg completely off, a nice gardenia-scented candle burning as they skim through a Better Homes & Gardens magazine.

Now, these are the main points of my plan, and while there remain some details to be ironed out, I have never been very good at ironing. So we'll just go with this for now.

Let me close with a quote (that I have amended slightly) from someone famous. Some men see things as they are and ask why. I dream of public toilets that never were and say why not.

The time to act is now. Don't let our country go down the toilet. Rather, let our toilets rise to meet us. This is my calling. This is pretty much all I think about.

Give my best to Mrs. Obama, Kasha and little Maria.

PS: If my application is inexplicably denied, I will accept an autographed picture of President Clinton instead. Thanks.

"O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years. Thine alabaster cities gleam, undimmed by human tears..."

The floaty ball's connected to the...

I've been having an issue in the bathroom for several weeks now. And as you may have figured out from Male Restroom Etiquette and some of my other writings, I do not always adhere to the old adage, "What happens in the john stays in the john." So prepare yourselves.

Some time ago, I went to flush and--how shall I put this--it didn't go down. The whole swirling/draining mechanism came to a complete stop. Through trial and error, I found that if I held the handle down for approximately 4 to 7 seconds, the flush cycle would complete. And so, this is how I've been living for several months now--holding down the handle to ensure a full and proper flush. This went on for so long that whenever I used a toilet that flushed properly, it caught me off guard.

Then Friday, more trouble erupted. The water wouldn't stop running after a flush--a not uncommon problem in toilet circles. So I did what any normal person would do. I jiggled the handle. And waited.

It kept running.

So what do I do when something goes wrong around the house? Eventually, I call the property manager. But not before I have a look at the situation myself.

Do I consider myself a handyman? Let me put it this way: I do not. Not in the class of a Bob Vila, Al Borland, or Handyman Negri anyway.

But I am a man. Therefore I possess an unshakable, innate belief that I am equipped with the ability and know-how to fix any device, grill any meat, and find any place on Earth without asking for directions. And so, I took the lid off the back of the toilet and looked inside. Also known as, pretending to know what I'm doing.

You may think a toilet is nothing more than a base, a seat, a lid, a hole, a tank, and sparkling blue liquid that magically fills the bowl when you flush. But the inner workings of this magnificent invention are as intricate and complex as any simple lever or pulley machine.

As I opened the lid, I saw the familiar floaty ball, the chain, the bendy tube, and the stopper thingy. (These are all highly technical terms. No need to concern yourself with them at this point.) My keen eye noticed that one arm of the stopper thingy was broken. Aha!

Now what to do? I knew the property manager wouldn't come out for something like this until Monday. So it was either run up a $200 water bill, cut the water off and go to a public restroom anytime I had to go, or plunge my hands into the bacteria-infested waters and try to fix it myself. *shudder* Talk about a germophobic nightmare. I'd rather lick a shoe.

It wasn't an easy decision. But the Taco Bell bathroom really wasn't all that bad.

I'm kidding. I went to Wal-Mart and found a stopper thingy, which they call a flapper--layman's terms, I'm sure. Then I came home, got out one of the four or five tool sets Dad has given me for Christmases past, and entered the bathroom, which had just become my personal workshop.

Not surprisingly, or very surprisingly, I was able to affix the flapper to the crapper with fleeting aplomb and only nominal water spillage. I didn't even have to use any of my tools. Just some scissors.

And who knows, maybe in thirty or forty years, my hands will feel clean again.

"I washed my hands in muddy water. Washed my hands, but they didn't come clean..."

Lessons learned

Last week, Momma Bone shared a little anecdote with me about dialing directory assistance. First of all, I'm pretty sure my mother keeps 411 in business. She dials it more than anyone I know. Come to think of it, she's the only person I know who ever uses it. Anyway, she had gotten some automated message that the system could not process her request.

"So I called back and went Mummummumm," she continued, putting her hand over her mouth as she mumbled the last few syllables.

"Mummummumm?" I asked.

"Yeah, if you do that, a real person will pick up."

I laughed, wondering to myself how Mom figured this out. How long it took her. And what other little tips and tricks she has devised and discovered that I don't know about yet.

I decided that from Mom, I learn the practical things in life, to get me through everyday situations. Things like where's the best public restroom in town; how to bypass the automated system on 411; and maybe most importantly, if a restaurant undercooks your steak, always eat your baked potato before sending it back because they'll bring you a whole new potato after they recook your steak. She'll kill me if she finds out I told that last one.

Meanwhile from Dad, I have learned things about how to survive and preserve myself during times of natural disasters and other dire situations. Things like don't shower during a thunderstorm; the best place to be in a tornado is driving around in the car, despite what every weather person and tornado safety manual ever printed says; and of course, eating more fish will help fight off radiation poisoning in case of a nuclear attack.

Will it? I have no idea, but I probably eat more fish than most land lovers. Also, it wasn't until the last couple of years that I would dare get into a bathtub if it was thundering outside. And I'm still not crazy about the idea.

As he is wont to do, Dad was imparting even more infallible wisdom when he took me out for birthday lunch recently. "Son, I still have the mind of a 16-year-old. It's just the body doesn't want to cooperate anymore."

The mind of a 16-year-old? Really, Dad? Well, at least I come by that honest.

Do you ever wonder how your parents even got this far in life? Sometimes I just shake my head in amazement. Mom still refuses to learn to set a digital watch or the clock in her car. She's never had a mozzarella stick in her life, ever. And she thought Warren Sapp was "The Refrigerator" the whole time he was on Dancing With The Stars, and still does.

Dad called me just tonight to tell me they'd ordered the Bible on mp3, then went on to ask, "How much would an mp3 player cost?" And the whole VCR fad completely came and went without either of them ever learning to program one, I think.

If I asked Dad how he got this far in life, his answer would in all likelihood begin with the phrase, "Well son, when you're this good-looking..."

Both my parents turn 59 this year. For so long, they appeared invincible and always just kinda seemed the same age. Then one day, something happens. Probably not even anything major. Just some little something occurs and it smacks you in the face that suddenly they're twenty years older.

I want them to always be 35. Mom riding her bicycle for miles every Saturday afternoon, taking my sister and me to pick up Mamaw and carry her to town on summer mornings. Dad doing his woodwork out in his shop, reading his encyclopedias and watching the Discovery Channel to learn about thunderstorms and fish and the like. Keeping every sort of harm and danger away from our door. And there never being a problem they couldn't take care of.

When I think about my childhood, that's what I miss the most.

Seeing my parents get older is one of the hardest things about life. Few things get to me like that does. It's one of those things that if it creeps into my mind, I try and push it out immediately. I don't want to think about it.

Some lessons you don't ever want to learn.

"Wish change would just leave well enough alone. Those days are gone now, when Daddy was a strong man and Momma was a blonde..."

A mother and son discuss the important things in life

A week or so ago, I was driving with Mom in the car. We were coming back from somewhere, discussing the typical mother/son fare. You know, work, family, the new Steak Out we're getting (booyah!), last night's Nancy Grace. And then...

Bone: "I still haven't been to the new Walgreens."

Momma Bone: "You haven't?"

Bone: "No."

Momma Bone: "I go in there all the time to use the bathroom."

Bone (a bit confused and on the verge of laughter): "What?!"

Momma Bone: "Oh yeah, they've got the nicest bathroom in town."

Yep. Now you know where I get it. Up until that moment, I didn't even know where I got it. We Bones are very particular about our restroom experiences. And one more piece of the puzzle of why I am who I am falls neatly into place.

Actually, that was excellent information. I mean, it's good to know these things. Maybe I should start compiling a list. It could be like those websites that list the cheapest gas in each city. Except mine would list the most exquisite public restrooms.

"And heaven help us always to remember, that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world..."

Friday Flashback: Male Restroom Etiquette

May be doing a short road trip this weekend. An overnight trip, or maybe just a long drive. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this week's Friday Flashback.

Of all the posts I've written, this is one of my three or four favorites. Not that I have them all ranked or anything. It's the quintessential Bone. Me in my element. The restroom. If there are two things I know about, it's Seinfeld and restrooms. And it really didn't take that long to write, either. I hope you enjoy it.

This was originally posted October 21, 2005.

Picture the following... You find yourself at the airport, with an impending renal requirement. After walking past several gates, you finally see the restrooms. The urinator's oasis. You rush inside. Fortunately, it's not crowded. There are maybe 15 wall stalls, and only a couple are taken. You position yourself at the second stall from the left, four urinals down from your nearest fellow leaker, unzip, and let it go. Ahhhh.

Suddenly, without warning, midway through your discharge, your personal space is invaded. Without any thought for common sense and everything that is good and homophobic, someone sets up camp at the far left urinal, right next to you! What the freak?!

This situation happened to me recently. Twice! I had to fight my natural instinct to yell out "What the crap?!" to the offending parties. As a friend of mine said to me when I relayed this story to him, "You can't pee with someone right next to you!" Indeed!

Of course, it's much too painful to try and cut off the flow and move. But it was all I could do not to switch stalls midstream. These events have prompted me to compose this entry.

There are unspoken rules of men's room etiquette. I don't know how we know them, we just do. Well, most of us anyway. Some are common sense. Some, otherwise. I will now attempt to acquaint you with some of the more important rules and procedures for the very natural process of urinating in a public forum.

Rule #1. Always, ALWAYS leave a buffer zone of at least one urinal between you and the nearest peer. Always. Simple enough? Apparently not for the dysfunctional pee people I encountered. I will allow some leeway on this rule if and only if there is some sort of partition between urinals. But even then, skip a space if at all possible.

Rule #2. If it is impossible to skip at least one urinal, then check for an open stall. Yes, that's right the good old traditional sit-down toilet. Most of these are fully-enclosed, except for perhaps a foot or two of space at the bottom.

If no stall is available, then I recommend leaving and coming back at a later time. Although waiting is acceptable, as long as you wait over by the sink. Don't wait directly behind someone who is doing his business. I mean, really, most of us have been in prison at one time or another, and it's just a little uncomfortable, that's all.

Rule #3. Once you're at your station, employ the three 'S' method of public urination. Snuggle, Straight, Silent. Get in close, look straight ahead, and don't speak.

No one likes a loosey-goosey-necked urinator. Don't look around. No one likes a long-distance bomber either. Get as close as possible to the porcelain without touching it. And don't make small talk. It's not a social event. It's a bodily function.

Besides, you should be more worried about what you would do if someone were to steal your wallet right at this very moment. Because really, this would be the opportune time to do so, don't you think? That's what I always think about when I am peeing anyway.

Addendum A. (The Stall Clause). If you're using the toilet... defacating... and you get done, please wait until the restroom is completely clear before exiting and washing up. You've just done that. And we don't want to put a face with the odor, Stinky. Really.

I guess that will do for now.

Next, let's look at a couple of examples. These are situations that you might very well encounter, and how best to handle them.

Situation 1: There are five urinals and three stalls. Urinals #2 and #5 are occupado. What do you do?

Answer: Since it would be impossible to skip a urinal on each side, check the stalls. If you can't find an open stall, you may pretend to wash your hands until a urinal comes open, or just leave and come back in a little while. If urinals 1 and 5 would have been occupied, you could have safely and properly squeezed in at urinal 3.

Also, as a side note here, let me say this. Beware of the stinky stall surprise. For some reason, people either don't like to flush public toilets, or don't know how. If you encounter this unpleasant stink bomb, exit the stall immediately and find another appropriate location.

Situation 2: There are three urinals. The far left one is occupied. The other two are open.

Answer: This one is easy. Use the far right urinal. For added protection, you might also employ a 30 degree turn, what I like to call the privacy turn, away from the other urinals. This works especially well on an end urinal.

Now for some reader questions. Or questions that I made up and attributed to readers. Whichever.

One readers asks, "Bone, what if I enter an empty restroom? Is there a best choice of urinals?"

I'm glad you asked. You're only going to be in there for a short time, hopefully, unless you have some sort of problem. So it doesn't matter so much. Still, to be safe, choose an end urinal. Then, if someone were to violate the one-urinal buffer zone rule, you could still do the 30 degree turn and get a small measure of privacy.

Also, sometimes the sinks are next to the urinals. If this is the case, choose a urinal away from the sink. That way no one who might come in to wash his hands will be tempted to sneak a peek, if you know what I mean.

Another reader wants to know, "What about the restrooms that have large tub-like basins to pee into, Bone? What's proper etiquette there?"

I know exactly what you're talking about. And this is pretty much a judgment call. First, I would try to find an unoccupied basin. If there are none, look for a stall. Still no luck? It might be possible to urinate in the same basin as somone else. It really all depends on the basin size.

If there's any chance your streams could cross, then you definitely want to avoid that. How awkward would that be. I mean, if you're gonna do that, you might as well hold hands. Even if no one is there, always position yourself near one end of the basin. Similarly with the restrooms that just have streams of water running down the wall into a drain (I hate those), it's a judgment call. A good rule of thumb always is to allow as much distance as possible.

In closing, I hope we can all see from these points I've tried to make that when a man enters a public restroom, the choice of stalls is not some haphazard, random, close-your-eyes-and-hope-for-the-best process. That's OK in the bedroom. But not here. This is much more important.

The renality of it is this. It's a logical process. And it's not that difficult. With apologies to Janet Jackson, we all live in a urine nation. So let's make the best of it. You can't just go anywhere. However, if you apply yourself and follow these simple guidelines, you too can engage in proper public urination. And that means a better, safer, more pees-ful world for all of us.

Also be looking for my future diatribes, including:
Outdoor urination: When? Where? And which bushes are prickly?
High and low urinals: The long and short of it
Proper flushing technique: The kick flush (You can always burn your shoes later)
Proper handwashing: The paper towel first technique
Hand blowers: Patience rewarded
The split-stream: That rarest of all male urination phenomena

"Ain't it funny how a melody can bring back a memory? Take you to another place and time. Completely change your state of mind..."

Handwashing in the 21st Century

Another in a series of posts from the world's 4th most respected expert on restroom etiquette... I write these not only to inform and entertain, but also to spark discussion on these topics. Often some of you might have ideas or habits that I find useful in the restroom. And vice versa.

Today's topic is proper handwashing in public restrooms, from a germophobic viewpoint. After all, some people refer to me as a germophobe aficianado. Well, except for they use freak or lunatic in place of aficianado. The four phases to proper public restroom handwashing are the entrance, washing, drying, and the exit. We'll look at each of the four in depth in this post. Did you have any doubt?

Upon entering the facilities, it is important to notice two things. The type of faucet, and the method or methods of hand drying that are available. If unable to determine the faucet is hands-free (i.e. motion detecting), you will need to make arrangements for turning on the faucet without actually touching it. While this may initially sound tricky, it is usually not that difficult. The preferred method is to take some paper towels, if available, and use them to turn on the water.

Washing is actually the easiest of the four phases. Simply soap up, preferably with warm water. You should also use a paper towel to avoid touching the soap dispenser. Once you are done washing and rinsing, leave the water running.

The key to washing, and maybe to this entire post is this. From the time you are done washing your hands until the time you exit the facilities, no part of your skin should touch anything in that restroom except for a paper towel!

And now it's time to dry off. The paper towel you tear off when entering the restroom may serve a four-fold purpose. Turning on the faucet, dispensing soap, turning off the faucet, and last but not least, it is your germ-shield for getting more paper towels to dry your hands. Be sure to go ahead and roll a few paper towels down before you wash. Then, all you have to do is tear them off when you're ready to dry.

Some restrooms have the automatic paper towel dispensers that do not require you to turn a handle or pull down a lever. I call these restrooms... Xanadus. Once you locate such a restroom, commit it to memory. And go back there, again and again.

For restrooms with hand dryers that are not motion activated, you will need to use a paper towel, tissue, or your elbow to turn on the dryer. Assuming you are wearing long-sleeves of course.

There is one additional situation we have yet to discuss. And that is, a restroom with no paper towels available. I call these restrooms sanitary nightmares. Or, Sheol. There are several options to handle this most unpleasant of circumstances.

Some people choose to venture into a stall and use tissue in place of the paper towel. Now on this topic, I speak not by commandment, but of my own personal preference. Since I never sit in the public stalls anyway, it follows that I would not use the tissue in them.

However, if you do, be sure to tear off and throw away the first several yards of tissue. This helps to ensure that no one else has touched it and that it hasn't been exposed to the bacteria-charged aura of the restroom. This also goes for the first paper towel or two. Tear them off and throw them away. Then you will will be more likely to get a clean, fresh one.

In lieu of paper towels, others might use the sleeve of their shirt or some other bit of clothing. This is acceptable since (1)you really have no other viable options and (2)you can always burn your clothes later. Still others, when presented with a restroom with no paper towels, simply leave and look for a better-equipped comfort station down the road.

Now it's time to make your escape. Before throwing away the paper towels, or whatever you have used to dry off with, you should use them to open the bathroom door. I know, you used them to dry off, now you're touching the door handle with them. Gross, right? But that's OK. Other people have done much worse in there. Trust me. This is one of the million reasons you don't want to touch the handle with your virgin hands in the first place.

Once you open the door, then and only then may you dispose of the paper towels. While using your foot to hold the door open, put the paper towels in the trash can. If the trash can is located too far away, then just throw the paper towels towards it. If you miss, you miss. This is not your fault. It's their fault for putting the trash can too far away from the restroom door. Get as close as you can. That's all you can do.

And there you have it. You're out of the restroom and on your way to enjoy the rest of your day. Another successful handwashing job completed. See how simple that was? That's how I roll. Or, wash.

I hope you have found this entry helpful. By following these and other simple rules, you too will be well on your way to a habitually neat, clean, and very normal existence.

"You are an obsession. You're my obsession..."

Be a sweetie...

My mentor continues to achieve greater fame. She was interviewed recenly for articles in the Christian Science Monitor and Newsday. Congratulations, Pia. Meanwhile, I've been gaining my own kind of fame:



Mission accomplished. Back to base, Joe! Now on with today's post...

I used to have a little plaque that hung in the bathroom which said on it, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweetie and wipe the seatie." Actually, I think I still have it. Probably boxed up somewhere. When my aunt lived in a house with a pool out back, there was a sign by the pool that said, "I don't swim in your toilet, so please don't pee in my pool." Well, I never swam in her toilet...

The fact is, sometimes we do sprinkle. And by we, I mean men. This is one of many reasons I never sit on public toilets. I don't know what I would do if I were a woman. Probably develop some sort of awkward bow-legged hover method.

Think of it as an 11-setting spray nozzle over which we have no control. The majority of the time, it's on stream or jet. But occasionally and without any warning, it switches over completely on its own to shower, or mist, or soaker. Or worst of all, split-stream.

The split-stream is a somewhat rare phenomenon. For me, anyway. And let's face it, that's all I have to go on. I'm the only test subject being interviewed for this article. You can't predict the split-stream. It may be preventable, but happens so rarely that no one has done enough research to know for sure how.

There are two streams, both going different directions. As any man knows, it's impossible or at least deathly painful to stop the disemboguing once it starts. So that leaves us with but one option. Pick a stream and go with it. And try to get one out of two into the vitreous receptacle. That's the best we can do. We're only human.

Ladies, that's why we occasionally pee on the toilet seat. Well, that and the fact that lifting the seat every single time we go just seems unreasonable and entirely too strenuous.

I'm not even supposed to be telling you any of this. This is all top secret male behavioral information. But I figure if I share something with you, perhaps someday you will return the favor.

And that day is today. Why do you always go to the restroom together?

"He sings the songs that remind him of the good times. He sings the songs that remind him of the better times..."

Show your patronage?

Elaine: "Jer, do you see where this is going?"
Jerry: "Being really clean and happy?"

The past several days have been a bit exhausting and full of more firsts for our laconic blogger.

There was my first time to throw a frisbee into a frolf basket. Bystanders equated the experience to seeing a young Michael Jordan score his first basket. Or a still fully-cropped eight-year-old Gallagher smashing a grape with his spoon at the family dinner table.

There was also my first time walking on Beale Street. And at dinner Friday night, another first. Involving the restroom. Not surprisingly. As some of you know already, I have very specific procedures and rules when it comes to public restroom etiquette. I write about things I know and things that are important to me. Seinfeld and going to the bathroom properly seem to be high on that list.

As soon as we were seated at dinner, I excused myself to the men's room in order to relieve an impending urethral requirement which had been steadily building over the past hour. (Buying the Gin Blossoms CD before Tower Records closed had taken precedence over everything else.)

I entered to find an extremely small area. Straight ahead there was a sink. Just to the left of the sink there was a single urinal, separated from the sink by only a small partition, which extended out about eighteen inches from the wall. Directly to the left of the door was a stall.

Two guys were standing in front of the sink as I entered. The room was so small that I had to say "Excuse me" in order to squeeze by them and get to my porcelain oasis. They were talking, which constitutes a direct violation of the male restroom code already. However, as it was a small area, the noise allowed me a bit of a buffer. Sometimes it's hard to go if someone is standing right there and everything is quiet.

So as I disburdened, I could hear that one guy was asking the other about the best places to go and what stayed open late. The asker left and I flushed. As I turned to the sink, the askee said, "How you doing?" He had a squeeze bottle full of something pink, which I took to be soap, that he was holding as if to offer it to my hands. Suddenly it dawned on me that he worked here.

This is the first time I've ever encountered a... what do you call these people who work in the restrooms and offer you towels and such? Matrons? Except this was a guy. So does that make him a... patron? I guess. Anyway, this was my first experience such a person.

I quickly followed procedure holding out my hands in a very Allstate-like fashion. He squirted some soap on them, and already had the faucet running. It was a very good temperature. Not too hot, but warm. I was impressed. Then offered me a towel, which I accepted.

As I turned to exit, he said, "Can I interest you in a mint, or maybe a cigar?" Whoa, whoa, whoa! A mint? From the bathroom? And not even a nice large luxurious bathroom. But a one urinal-one stall bathroom. I guess he doesn't know me very well. I won't even chew gum when I go into my own bathroom, for fear that the germs will infiltrate my mouth. I'm not about to take a mint which has been basking for who knows how long in this germ incubator.

So I say no thanks. And at the same time I see a box full of money sitting on a shelf behind him. Oh, I'm supposed to tip? I offered a "All I have is a twenty." Which was true. To which he responded, "I have change if you need it." What do you tip a patron? I had no idea. So I tipped two bucks.

We had dinner while listening to a blues band. Afterward, I wanted--needed--to wash my hands after the slab of slightly-too-salty ribs we had devoured. But I didn't want to go back to the bathroom and face the patron again. I wasn't going to tip him twice in one night. But I didn't want to go in and not tip him either.

He kept leaving the bathroom every so often. For a break, I guess. I thought of planning my handwashing trip for when he was gone. But he was never gone more than a couple of minutes. I probably should have gone back in. I could picture a very Larry David-like moment occurring if I had.

I'm all for people making money anyway they can. But an attendant, in a cafe/bar, in a bathroom with two receptacles? That's a bit much. So I decided to just ask sign our waitress for some wetnaps, which I determined involves holding your hands up head-high, wrists touching, and wiggling all your fingers in the air. She obliged, and we left.

And don't get me started on the germ havens that are public toothpick dispensers.

Another topic for another day.

"Saw the ghost of Elvis on Union Avenue. Followed him up to the gates of Graceland and watched him walk right thru..."

Urinalysis: Male Restroom Etiquette

Picture the following... You find yourself at the airport, with an impending renal requirement. After walking past several gates, you finally see the restrooms. The urinator's oasis. You rush inside. Fortunately, it's not crowded. There are maybe 15 wall stalls, and only a couple are taken. You position yourself at the second stall from the left, four urinals down from your nearest fellow leaker, unzip, and let it go. Ahhhh. Suddenly, without warning, midway through your discharge, your personal space is invaded. Without any thought for common sense and everything that is good and homophobic, someone sets up camp at the far left urinal, right next to you. What the freak?!

This situation happened to me recently. Twice! I had to fight my natural instinct to yell out "What the crap?!" to the offending parties. As a friend of mine said to me when I relayed this story to him, "You can't pee with someone right next to you!" Indeed! Of course, it's much too painful to try and cut off the flow and move, but it was all I could do not to switch stalls in midstream. These events have prompted me to compose this entry.

The rules
There are unspoken rules of men's room etiquette. I don't know how we know them, we just do. Well, most of us anyway. Some are common sense. Some, otherwise. I will now attempt to acquaint you with some of the more important rules and procedures for the very natural process of urinating in a public forum.

Rule #1. Always, ALWAYS leave a buffer zone of at least one urinal between you and the nearest peer. Always. Simple enough? Apparently not for the dysfunctional pee people I encountered. I will allow some leeway on this rule if and only if there is some sort of partition between urinals. But even then, skip a space if at all possible.

Rule #2. If it is impossible to skip at least one urinal, then check for an open stall. Yes, that's right the good old traditional sit-down toilet. Most of these are fully-enclosed, except for perhaps a foot or two of space at the bottom. If no stall is available, then I recommend leaving and coming back at a later time. Although waiting is acceptable, as long as you wait over by the sink. Don't wait directly behind someone who is doing his business. I mean, really, most of us have been in prison at one time or another, and it's just a little uncomfortable, that's all.

Rule #3. Once you're at your station, employ the three 'S' method of public urination (snuggle, straight, silent). Get in close, look straight ahead, and don't speak. No one likes a loosey-goosey-necked urinator. Don't look around. No one likes a long-distance bomber either. Get as close as possible to the porcelain without touching it. And don't make small talk. It's not a social event. It's a bodily function. Besides, you should be more worried about what you would do if someone were to steal your wallet right at this very moment. Because really, this would be the opportune time, don't you think? (That's what I always think about when I am peeing anyway.)

Addendum A. (The Stall Clause). If you're using the toilet... defacating... and you get done. Wait until the restroom is completely clear before exiting and washing up. You've just done that, and we don't want to put a face with the odor, Stinky. Really.

I guess that will do for now.

Examples
Next, let's look at a couple of examples. These are situations that you might very well encounter, and how best to handle them.

Situation 1: There are five urinals and three stalls. Urinals #2 and #5 are occupado. What do you do?

Answer: Since it would be impossible to skip a urinal on each side, check the stalls. If you can't find an open stall, you can pretend to wash your hands until a urinal comes open, or just leave and come back in a little while. If urinals 1 and 5 would have been occupied, you could have safely and properly used urinal 3.

Also, as a side note here, let me say: Beware of the stinky stall surprise. For some reason, people either don't like to flush public toilets, or don't know how. If you encounter this unpleasant stink bomb, exit the stall immediately and find another appropriate location.

Situation 2: There are three urinals. The far left one is occupied. The other two are open.

Answer: This one is easy. Use the far right urinal. For added protection, you might also employ a 30 degree turn, what I like to call the 'privacy turn', away from the other urinals. This works especially well on an end urinal.

Reader questions
Now for some reader questions. Or questions that I made up and attributed to readers. Whichever.

One readers asks: "Bone, what if I enter an empty restroom? Is there a best choice of urinals?"

I'm glad you asked. Really, you're only going to be in there for a short time, hopefully, unless you have some sort of problem. So it doesn't matter so much. Still, to be safe, choose an end urinal. Then, if someone were to violate the one-urinal buffer zone rule, you could still do the 30 degree turn and get a measure of privacy. Also, sometimes the sinks are next to the urinals. If this is the case, choose a urinal away from the sink.

Another reader wants to know, "What about the restrooms that have large tub-like basins to pee into, Bone? What's proper etiquette there?"

Well, I know exactly what you're talking about. And this is pretty much a judgment call. First, I would try to find an unoccupied basin. If there are none, look for a stall. Still no luck? It might be possible to urinate in the same basin as somone else. It really all depends on the basin size. If there's any chance your 'streams' could cross, then you definitely want to avoid that. How awkward would that be. I mean, if you're gonna do that, you might as well hold hands. Even if no one is there, always position yourself near one end of the basin. Similarly with the restrooms that just have streams of water running down the wall into a drain (I hate those), it's a judgment call. A good rule of thumb always is to allow as much distance as possible.

Summary
I hope we can all see from these points that I've tried to make that when a man enters a public restroom, the choice of stalls is not some haphazard, random, close-your-eyes-and-hope-for-the-best-result process. That's OK in the bedroom. But not here. This is much more important.

The renality of it is this: It's a logical process. And it's really not that difficult. With apologies to Janet Jackson, we all live in a urine nation. So let's make the best of it. You can't just go anywhere. However, if you just apply yourself and follow these simple guidelines, you too can engage in proper public urination. And that means a better, safer, more pees-ful world for all of us.

And be looking for my future diatribes, including:
Outdoor urination: When, where, and which bushes are prickly?
High and low urinals: The long and short of it
Proper flushing technique: The kick flush (You can always burn your shoes later)
Proper handwashing: The paper towel first technique
Hand blowers: Your patience is rewarded

Hope you all have a wonderful weekend! Big game this week. Come on, Bama.

"I came along. I wrote a song for you, and all the things you do. And it was called yellow..."