The Courtesy Flush

wp-1459309012275.jpgHey, this is Kim.  I want you all to get in a comfy position, put on your imagination goggles, and take a virtual trip with me to the KoA Kampground in Flagstaff, AZ.

Our cabin is approximately 150 feet from the building that houses the laundry facilities, showers, and toilets.  You open the door to the women’s portion and immediately to your right, along the wall, are four toilet stalls. I can’t complain about those.  They’re clean, there is always ample butt paper, and I’ve only had to wait for an open stall once.  Two thumbs up for the toilets.

Immediately after the toilets, along the same wall, are then four shower stalls. Walking into the shower stall you enter sort of a dressing area.  It’s about the size of a phone booth.  It has a couple of sets of hooks and a small bench on which you can place your toiletries.  You then open the curtain and take a small step down and you’re in the shower area itself.  It’s SMALLER than a phone booth.

Keep in mind, please, my size.

Mounted on the wall immediately in front of you upon entering is the shower head.  It’s nothing fancy, but the water is third-degree-burn-inducing hot and the pressure could break a bone.  Those are both pluses in my book, in case you were wondering.

Let’s talk about where the shower head is mounted, however.  I’m 5’10” tall (I used to be 5″10 1/4″, but that’s a story for another day).  The shower head is at the height of my clavicle.  Someone who’s good with numbers do the math on its precise height but, suffice it to say, there are some problems.

I like lots of water pressure, but when the shower is on at maximum pressure it almost shatters my esophagus.  Needless to say, there are a lot of squats involved when taking a shower.  And shaving my legs? You do NOT want to know what kind of Cirque du Soleil contortions are involved with THAT!

Still, I’m grateful to have it.  I always exit the shower feeling refreshed, clean.

Until today.

Remember the visualization I asked you to get ready for?  Ok, this is where it’s important.  The toilets and showers are all separated by shared walls, much like you’d see in a public restroom anywhere.  Yesterday, I showered in the very first shower stall.  So, if you are visualizing correctly, you understand that on one side of it is shower #2 and on the other side of it is toilet #4.  Being a creature of habit, that’s where I was showering today.

It was blissful.  Well, as blissful as it could be while doing squats in the shower.  Still, I was the only person in the building.  No one could hear me if I farted, sighed with contented relief, or burped up my Navajo taco.

I’d just entered the phase of the shower where I put the conditioner on my hair.  Apparently, someone entered the building.  And guess where she went.  Yep, she went in toilet #4…immediately connected to me.  I wasn’t made aware of her presence because I could hear the door to the building open or because I could hear the lock to her toilet stall slide closed.  No. That – at least – would have been a warning.  How was I alerted to her presence, you ask?

The stench.

This wonderful woman decided to take a shit in stall #4, right next door to me.  Keep in mind that ALL THE OTHER STALLS WERE EMPTY.

I was enjoying my shower, doing some back bends in order to try and shave behind my knee, and the stench hit me like a freight train.  I swear to you that I gagged.  (And those of you who know who I live with will understand that I’m used to nasty potty smells!)  This smell was like no other.

This brings us to today’s lesson: the courtesy flush.

When in a public bathroom and feeling the need to drop the kids off at the pool, make some butt mud, drop a deuce, take a dump, go #2 – whatever you want to call “taking a shit” – nowhere is the courtesy flush more important.  You’re not the only person breathing in your ass fumes, public bathroom shitter!

Think about it this way:  as I mentioned, our cabin is just a couple hundred feet from the shower building.  Would I prefer to just wrap my butt-ass naked body in a towel and stroll there and back?  Hell, yes, I would.  But I don’t.  You know why?  Well, it’s NOT because I’m shy about being naked in front of people.  I couldn’t give two shits (pun intended) about who sees me naked.  I DON’T do it because I care for the well being of others!  THEY do NOT want to see me like that!

The same holds true for public shitting.  Your nasty stench might not bother YOU, but it bothers others! And, by “others,” I mean ME!

So, back to my shower.

There was no courtesy flush.  The smell got worse and worse.  I tried gagging loudly so she’d get the idea, to no avail.  And guess what happened next, my friends.

Her friend entered the building and they began having a conversation.

Yes, they sat there next to each other, presumably BOTH shitting, and had a conversation.

Finally, there was a flush.  Then there was a second flush.  By this time I was doing handstands trying to shave the back of my thigh, so my shower was near its end.  I maneuvered my way through the rest of the shower, dried off as best I could in such a confined space, put my t shirt and boxers back on (BECAUSE I’M FUCKING COURTEOUS!), and exited my shower stall.

In front of me (on the left side of the wall as you enter the building) are five sinks.  There is a mirror above them and as I look into the mirror I’m able to see everything from my breasts down.  Granted, my breasts are awesome, but I’d actually like to see my face while I’m putting moisturizer on it.  Oh, joy!  I spotted a floor length mirror mounted on the wall being the door.  Surely THAT would be tall enough.  I was able to see everything from my neck down.

Sigh.

I did the best I could to dry off my shower supplies, comb my hair, and tweeze some rogue chin hairs, enjoying the fact that the building was all mine again.  The offensive public shitters had already left.

Just as I was finishing up, a woman entered the building and went into toilet stall #1.  I heard nothing.  There was no stream of urine hitting the water.  I began to  pack up my things faster.  Still nothing from her stall.  Then, it happened.

PLOP.

I fled.

 

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