Wednesday, May 10, 2006
It's Like Gaydar But Different
I'm not sure if I'm cursed or talented. Either way I've discovered a new skill that I'm not sure I want.
First, a little history. This is the first year that I have used the teachers' bathroom at my school. The first few years, I never knew the code to get in the bathroom. Last year, I got in but was immediately frightened away when I discovered there were also urinals in the bathroom. Because of the urinals, I was always afraid that it wasn't actually the women's bathroom, and if you knew the men at my school, you'd be afraid to run into one of them in the bathroom, too. This year the bathroom is clearly labeled WOMEN, so, urinals be damned, the teachers' bathroom is where I do my peeing.
The teachers' bathroom is great for so many reasons: the stalls have locking doors and it's always fully-stocked with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels. Fancy, I know. But the teachers' bathroom also has a downside: because it's slightly small (only 3 stalls) and poorly ventilated, it oftentimes smells like, well, shit.
This is where the skill comes in (or perhaps it is the total lack of skill). Whenever I enter the bathroom and my nose is accosted by a foul odor, I quickly attempt to guess the stall that recently held the source of said odor (kind of like an odoriferous version of the shell game on The Price Is Right). Once I have determined the source, I choose the stall furthest from it. The problem is, no matter how hard I try, I always end up selecting the stink-bomb stall for my own. Just when I think I'm walking away from the stench, I find myself wallowing in it. It's like I'm a stink magnet.
As if that weren't problem enough, today I noticed urine in one of the urinals.
I think it may be over for me and the teachers' bathroom.
First, a little history. This is the first year that I have used the teachers' bathroom at my school. The first few years, I never knew the code to get in the bathroom. Last year, I got in but was immediately frightened away when I discovered there were also urinals in the bathroom. Because of the urinals, I was always afraid that it wasn't actually the women's bathroom, and if you knew the men at my school, you'd be afraid to run into one of them in the bathroom, too. This year the bathroom is clearly labeled WOMEN, so, urinals be damned, the teachers' bathroom is where I do my peeing.
The teachers' bathroom is great for so many reasons: the stalls have locking doors and it's always fully-stocked with toilet paper, soap, and paper towels. Fancy, I know. But the teachers' bathroom also has a downside: because it's slightly small (only 3 stalls) and poorly ventilated, it oftentimes smells like, well, shit.
This is where the skill comes in (or perhaps it is the total lack of skill). Whenever I enter the bathroom and my nose is accosted by a foul odor, I quickly attempt to guess the stall that recently held the source of said odor (kind of like an odoriferous version of the shell game on The Price Is Right). Once I have determined the source, I choose the stall furthest from it. The problem is, no matter how hard I try, I always end up selecting the stink-bomb stall for my own. Just when I think I'm walking away from the stench, I find myself wallowing in it. It's like I'm a stink magnet.
As if that weren't problem enough, today I noticed urine in one of the urinals.
I think it may be over for me and the teachers' bathroom.
// posted by mochila @ 6:17 PM 
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Safest bet's the middle stall, MyM. It's equidistant from the smell, sure, but it's the "gay seat." Boys are familiar with the gay seat. It marks the space they keep between each to ward off suspicion and, at times, fists. Usually found in theaters and date places, I find when we piss or shit, even when we piss or shit in empty restrooms, we allow for a distance to baffle our smell and our noise. Space affords us easy lies and manners; it's ground both involved and neither own.
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