Three shakes
I once started to write a novel. The opening paragraph went something like this:
Two men stand urinating, shoulder to shoulder, in Euston Station’s public toilets. However, the next time they meet only one of them would be holding his penis.
I didn’t say it was a good novel.
But I’ve always been struck by the etiquette of public toilets. Civilisation, as much as it has advanced, is still tethered by the fact that we can’t escape our bodily constraints…
I’m not talking about cubicles (here’s a tip for you who prefer a fresher bowl – statistically the cleanest cubicle is the one nearest the entrance door), rather the urinals.
I think it’s safe to say that of the common types, perhaps the most bestial is the trough. The one where you get a constant flow of other peoples urine passing you by as you create your own.
Yet despite this, there are still strict social conventions to follow – When selecting a urinal, or a place at the trough, it’s the done thing to calculate the maximum distance from any other users… don’t just wander up next to someone else in mid flow when you could be stood at the other side of the room.
Similarly, conversation is frowned upon, as is looking anywhere other than directly ahead, at the wall in front of you.
And talking… not the place, much less so for laughing too, for fear that you will instill an embarrassing case of bashful bladder in your comrades.
Then there are the intricacies… you walk into the room and the only one left is the obligatory child-height urinal. Do you use that, or do you wait for a more reasonably positioned one to become free?
The anxiety of performing a faux pas.
Fortunately it’s not all stress. There are plenty of things to keep you amused. Sure, in some of the more impressive modern facilities they even have television screens placed conveniently over that bit of wall you used to have to stare at. But even in the more low-fi establishment you can find reading material in the form of graffiti (again, depending upon the sort of place you are, some of them read like a phone book of obscenity).
My favourite piece of writing is the usually placed at the bottom of cubicle doors, by the gap, that reads, ‘beware limbo dancers’. There are some better ones here, at The Writings on the Stall.
Failing that, the cleaners very generously place urinal cakes for you to aim at, to pass the time as you pass.
In days gone by these would have been accompanied by cigarette butts, giving enough pieces to create elaborate board games, similar to table hockey.
I guess I’m just a little disappointed that we haven’t really advanced, or found a better solution for dealing with this particular function. Surely the time is up and the writing is on the wall…
On the matter of TV screens, I remember one bowlong alley, of all things, that used ransparent troughs with the screens behind them.
>Failing that, the cleaners very generously place urinal cakes for you to aim at, to pass the time as you pass.
I seem to remember somwhere that some enterprising location etched a picture of a fly into their Urinals- splashage dropped considerably.
/b
There’s a manufacturer that does that, with a little off-center bumblebee finished into the porcelain… it’s suppose to reduce splashing considerably.
Oh, and here
Oops. Posted prematurely. Here’s the story about the fly. http://www.boingboing.net/2008/08/28/urinal-targets-and-o.html
Makes sense… I wonder what evolutionary pressure has caused that to be the case?
I remember two pieces of particularly good stall-wall poetry.
“There I sat
all broken hearted.
Had to shit
but only farted.”
And the second simply said, “as you read this, tiny men are nailing your balls to the seat.” I laughed, I admit it.
There was also the bathroom in the philosophy department, where someone had chalked ANARCHY! in big letters, and three or four other students had responded with musings on the feasibility and philosophical rigor of anarchy as a social contract.
Oh, last one: bathroom at my favourite cafe, someone’s chalked up “I only think in status updates!” and someone else has written smaller, underneath, “1 person likes this”
“1 person likes this”
Genius. Geeky. Genius.
I feel it’s obligatory to link to the urinal game. It is especially enlightening for women who may wonder what the hell we are talking about.
Yeah! I’m good at that urinal game!
Although rather than selecting the furthest urinal I would usually select the furthest tenable position in this pattern:
O-X-O-X-O-X-O-X-O
Where the O’s are potentially occupied urinals and the X’s are left free allowing each O a single space buffer. This really wouldn’t be necessary if they’d just spread the damn things out a bit.
I also generally never use the child-size urinal (unless I’m in a hurry or it’s an emergency) because they are too short for me to even approach.
The Great Joe Bivins´s last blog ..COMIC: BAADD: Blobs All About Drunk Driving
You know Joe, your urine will go all the way to the ground, so, unless you have shockingly bad aim, there is no reason to avoid the smaller commodes.
I’d have to stand too far away to angle it in. I’m not some sort of pee sniper!
The Great Joe Bivins´s last blog ..COMIC: BAADD: Blobs All About Drunk Driving
I did not know about this. The urinal game…
Also: “This really wouldn’t be necessary if they’d just spread the damn things out a bit.”
I forgot to mention the old style Victorian ones… not sure how popular they are outside the UK, but they are shielded to an extent, and often rather pretty.
I’m a little worried that I only got one of those wrong… I don’t even use urinals!
That said, I do have a peculiar little device that allows me to pee standing up. Useful as heck on camping trips when the portaloos are disgusting.
There you go, your daily TMI dose is fulfilled.
I don’t understand, when are portaloos not fucking disgusting? When I have the option, I prefer a shovel and a long walk, or, to just hold. But holding it in opens up a whole world of perilous farting.
yeah the urinal game came to mind for me too. that and i love being in places that have full circle urinals so that you can see how many you can pee in before your done or someone walks in (stopping in between each one of course)
oh yeah….
no matter how much you wiggle, jiggle, or dance, the last few drops always end up in your pants.
Eeew,
*flicks through diary to make a note to send some cards out for National Incontinence Day*
I think the rule is that talking is completely prohibited in the men’s room, and eye contact is only allowed between people who are on ‘equal footing’ (i.e. both doing the same thing, be it waiting in line or washing hands… but not peeing, that is private time when you do no acknowledge the existence of another soul in the world)
A one-urinal spacing is to be maintained at all times, no exceptions, and your eyes go straight ahead. Movement up/down along a single line is allowed, but no lateral head motion – you look to the side, you’re in dangerous territory. Also of importance: you don’t delay in the bathroom for any reason, because there is no reason. You do what you came in to do then you get the hell out. Waiting for others is done outside the bathroom where it is safe to converse again.
Hand washing is a grey area – on the one hand you don’t want to spread urine onto the door handle. On the other, the first thing you touch after your penis is the tap, and the last guy did the same. You might be better off taking your chances with the door handle, which also lends itself to getting the hell out…
Ah, the contemplation of hygeine.
I think studies have shown that there is considerably less urine on the taps and door handles than there is on the complementary peanuts at the bar… make of that what you will.
Also, I am surprised that public sinks do not use the same convention as laboratory sinks, which is, you use your elbows to operate the taps to avoid just that issue.
I’ve seen contact-less sinks before… bowl shaped hole in the wall, you put your hands in and it dispenses soap, water and then hot air. Unfortunately they had the timing of each phase all wrong, so you’d not have enough time to wash the soap off before the air came and have to go round for another cycle (dodging the soap) to get more water.
Now that seems like a game in its own right…
Unrelated, but I’ve got myself into a somewhat stupid situation. Added comments from 2 different computers that had 2 different email addresses saved for auto-entry into the comment form. Now I’m receiving each update (of which there are quite a few) twice.
Just to add to the stupid, one of those email boxes is set up to forward everything it received to the other address (for spam filtering means; I can change the settings to forward things selectively) so one of my addresses is somewhat drowning in update emails.
Tried the “Manage your subscriptions” link, but it doesn’t like me… “You may not access this page without a valid key.” Halp?
OK, is this working now?
That’s great, thanks
I imagine that was a little like the internet equivalent of an echo… a really annoying one at that.
I want to set an email account to forward all emails to another account, and then get that account to forward all emails to the first account.
The intertubes would drown!!!! BWAHAHAHAHA
I do that, must be the laboratory training.
…you mean you don’t get your butler to do it for you?
/b
I’m glad I’ll never have to worry about penis-tap-door cross-contamination.
Thank Zeus for hands-free faucets. Always use a napkin when grasping the door handle to leave the facilities.
sitting pugs´s last blog ..No wonder the lights were out on 10th street
In the words of Robert Anton Wilson (or possibly Robert Shea):
Do not throw cigarette butts in the urinal, for they are subtle and quick to anger
Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they become soggy and hard to light.
In mine: Thanks, gents, this has been illuminating. I’ve always wondered about urinal etiquette.
We aim to educate…
Particularly if there is a fly painted on it.
Thank heavens i’m a female.
Little did you know, it could still be an issue! You could get a Shenis. I think this video says about everything that needs to be said. Though the explanation by the creator is pretty priceless.
I would like to point out, seeing as I have mentioned up there ^ that I have a device allowing me to pee standing up, that it is not one of those. It’s a Shewee (pronounced Shweeee) that is not, I repeat NOT shaped like a dick.
I just want to establish that.
What? This doesn’t sound like fun?
My favourite joke was written on a cubicle wall, tho, it was in the womens toilets.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/brokentoyshop/2132175951/
I’ve been in some interesting bathroom related incidents, some not even located in an actual bathroom.
So, how about that weather hey?
Great joke… or at least a cutting explanation of those types of joke.
i’m a little worried to ask about the bathroom incidents that took place outside the bathroom… I’m guessing the involvement of alcohol?
Yes, indeed some do involve alcohol. My mate was relating the events of a particular night to me, just recently. He said that watching me peeing on the sidewalk, legs spread wide in a vain attempt to balance, waving casually at the passing girls, was one of the funniest things he has ever seen.
I’m not sure I broke any bathroom etiquette, as there aren’t supposed to be girls there.
Speaking of girls, I’m sure many of you have seen the photo of the girl at a music festival or race day, squatting over a urinal? Well, I’ve actually seen that happen a few times at the Perth Big Day Out.
I’m sure I’ve recounted the tale of being attacked by hornets some where on this site? That was most amusing and did not involve a single drop of grog.
The nature of the joke here reminds of this video…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGa7vqqRFOI
Urinal cakes are a complete misnomer. They taste absolutely nothing like cakes.
Lord Likely´s last blog ..Fingering the Felon
Maybe you need to choose a better place to get your cakes from?
I enjoy the urinal cakes that smell like bubblegum
Encifer´s last blog ..On Sanity’s Edge 2
My favourite bathroom wall scrawl will always be the exchange of :
“I f*cked your mum!”
with, in different handwriting,
“Dad, go home.”
Although after my mum first got hearing aids, I took great delight in writing a reply to a similar first phrase on my exam table of “haha, joke’s on you. Mum’s got aids.”
Well, no one said I had to specify what type…