Monday, January 27, 2020

Bathroom Talk





The other day, while scraping and shoveling horse manure from the three box stalls in the barn, I listened to a radio deejay conversation about airplane bathrooms.  

During this discussion, I even learned the most personal of information from one of the commentators.  

He never goes No. 2 on a flight, even those lasting several hours. 

Why? 

He takes Imodium before getting on an airplane. 

That gave me an idea.  If I'd give my horses  a dose if Imodium in their grain when they go into the barn at night, I wouldn't have to clean stalls every morning. 


Just kidding.  


I don't mind cleaning those stalls at all because the more I clean, the more garden gold I have on hand the next year. 


As a lady who searches out the location of the bathroom virtually every time she enters a new venue, even I was surprised to learn such personal information coming from the radio waves into my barn. 


Still, as one who has dealt with a nervous gut for years and an increasingly urgent bladder, I could identify with the gentleman who admittedly carries a few extra pounds.  


Even without the extra pounds, going to the bathroom on a plane requires a certain amount of planning, especially on long flights where both bathrooms and coach seating seem are engineered for space efficiency. 


I've noticed on our flights to Ireland that getting out of my aisle seat (which I always choose so I can get to the bathroom quickly, if needed)  involves a lot more gymnastics than the usual rising from a chair or couch.


In my case, I plan my moves first, then grab hold of the aisle arm rest, slowly push myself upward, eventually propping myself on that same very uncomfortable armrest---after removing my hand, of course. 


Finally, I launch the rest of my body into an upright position. 

Then, it's shake those legs into life again and move on down the aisle, trying not to decapitate any sleeping heads draped part way out into the aisle. 


I try to take my bathroom trips when it looks like everyone else on the plane is sound asleep.

Nothing can be more nerve-wracking than getting inside those tiny enclosures, with a plan, and knowing someone's standing right outside the door with who knows what level of urgency.

You don't want to take too long, but you also want to make the trip and all that planning worth it.

Happily, planes make a lot of noise, so, at least, the sound factor doesn't play into the stress like it tends to do in other public bathrooms. 

After finishing my duty and washing up, I might just take a little stroll up and down the aisle to help those slumbering leg muscles come fully alive so they can be ready for a few more hours of dormancy. 

The guys on the radio show suggested that some passengers use the bathroom as an excuse to get some exercise. 

In my recent past, I cannot remember one single trip to the bathroom serving as a cover for my airplane exercise regimen. 

Never happened.  Never will, knowing my gut and bladder. 

Well, I just can't get away from bathroom talk.  

Actually, I think I could write a book about bathrooms, based on personal life experiences.

This morning, I ran across a piece in the Atlantic magazine about bathrooms.  

The author pursued another facet of bathroom in his piece:  why do we Americans have so many in our homes and why do they tend to keep growing in size?

Personally, I have no complaints about either of those thoughts, but he points out that our fetish for large bathrooms---maybe even two per person in some homes---has evolved through history. 

I found the story fascinating for obvious reasons but also as an interesting look into our culture. 

Plus, what do we do each day more often than we eat meals?  

Well, as we age and eat and drink, a lot of us do take far more than three trips to the bathroom a day. 

The author also points out that the bathroom serves as our place to get closer to God:  cleanliness is next to Godliness, he reminds us. 

That portion of the article brings to mind a question which baffles me pretty much every time I go to Ireland and want to take a bath or a shower. 

WHERE ARE THE WASH CLOTHS?

Lots of bath towels and hand towels but no wash cloths. 

I discovered this on my first trip, thought my experiences might have been just an anomaly for my second trip and, for trips, three, four and five, took along a wash cloth. 

If someone could please explain to me why Americans need and do use wash cloths, while Europeans do not?

If there is no clear answer, then I'm gonna start a wash cloth business where, once those folks get the hang of it, I might even get rich. 

Enjoy the Atlantic article.  

Also, be cautious about the Imodium strategy, if you want your system to act "naturally" once you get off the plane! 

Happy Monday. 

Four more days until February.  


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