There is no worse sound on the planet than an unfamiliar person on the toilet in the men’s bathroom.
I just had this happen a few moments ago, here at the Corner Bakery in Irvine. The steps:
• 1. I enter, merely to wash my hands before eating.
• 2. Someone is on the toilet.
• 3. It smells not so good.
• 4. I hear this: “Errrghhh …. arrrggghhh …. errrrrghhh …. arrrrrghhhhh.”
• 5. I leave as quickly as possible.
• 6. I spent the next two months trying to recover.
I know I blog a lot about bathroom etiquette. Perhaps because I spend a good amount of time in shitters. They’re riveting places for social interactions. The awkward glance between arrivals and departures. The anxious waving of a hand beneath a stubbornly inoperable motion sensor sink. That moment when you see the face of the man who stanched up the room. THAT’s actually the money moment: You know you’re breathing in his ass gas, and he knows you’re breathing in his ass gas.
OK, I’m off.
Need to use the bathroom.
