Before GPS, men were notorious for not asking directions. It’s a genetic disorder handed down from Neanderthal males who hunted by following tracks instead of asking at the nearest bonfire.
Reading signs is another male malady along the same lines. When a man spots a door indicating a public bathroom, he naturally assumes it accommodates men. Keep in mind that men view overgrown shrubbery as bathrooms.
Without glancing at the sign on the door, men enter whichever bathroom is closest before deep dread overtakes them, causing momentarily paralysis and a fear of being arrested as a “Peeping Tom,” until he sees that oddly shaped piece of white porcelain furniture attached to the wall.
The urinal is a man’s best friend if only because its presence assures him that he has selected the proper door. Additionally, the urinal has no lid to be left up or down. Why urinals are not installed more often in private homes is a question to ponder? A few hundred dollars for one bathroom fixture could save thousands of divorces a year.
Public bathrooms make little sense. There was a time when all bathrooms had paper towel dispensers. Fifty years ago, to save a few trees while irritating the entire human race, blowers were installed with large chrome buttons and directions written on a metal placard whose letters were universally scratched off by juveniles to read “Scratch Butt Gently Under Arm.”
Blowers should be outlawed. If you’ve ever washed your face and dried it under a blower, only to spend hours crawling on the floor in search of a contact lens, you will agree.
Now we have magic buttons which dispense soap or paper towels with the wave of a hand – sometimes. Wave your hand under the dispenser, nothing happens. Raise your arm to comb your hair, soap shoots everywhere.
The height of these machines is important, especially to those of us who are vertically challenged. Some blowers are placed so high that soapy water runs down our arms and we have to take off our shirts to fully dry.
We experienced one bathroom that placed the soap dispenser and the blower on opposite sides of the wall. Those bathroom patrons lost two pounds walking back and forth.
The same could be said for automatic toilets. Many folks prefer not to be overheard doing their business, so they flush to drown out unsavory noise. With automatic toilets they sit, take a step out, sit back down, take a step out. If the Hokey Pokey hadn’t already been invented, we may have started something.
Some folks don’t care what others hear coming from their stall, particularly when technology is involved. Private cell phone conversations aren’t particularly private, and some people find the solitude of a toilet stall as the perfect place to enjoy a movie on their phone. Those waiting in line may not enjoy it as much.
Which brings us back to door signs. The exact moment America started getting dumber was the day bathrooms had to put outlined pictures of men in pants and women in a dress rather than spell out the words.
Now the transgender crisis in our country has created greater havoc. If men, women and “other” genders all have access to the same bathrooms, what pictures do we put on the doors?
And where does that leave us? Behind an overgrown shrub.