#470 Sense Her

So I’m in a public restroom. And being the hygiene conscientious fellow that I am, I wash my hands. This restroom happened to be in Canada so I had to turn on both faucet handles. I’ve yet to see a single lever faucet handle in Canada. I suppose they would say “leever.” But that sounds too much like the role I usually play in a relationship so I like to avoid that pronunciation. The problem with double faucet handles is since you’re hands are most likely contaminated when you turn the faucet on, washing does no good if you then go back to the faucet with clean hands to turn the now dirty handles off. The only solution, again if you’re hygiene conscientious, is to grab a paper towel from the dispenser and use it to turn the faucets off. As a brief aside, if I may, I think it paradoxical that hygiene conscientious people are sometimes referred to as Anal. Anti-anal would be more like it. In any event, I’ve had this quandary before and it is a measure of the conflictedness of an establishment, or the lack of thorough planning, that leaves a person such as myself frustrated and with dripping hands. For inevitably, an institution with double faucets has hot air dispensing hand dryers, and no amount of positioning of the output nozzle on the air dryer will turn off a faucet. It’s funny. Sometimes you go to a restroom and the faucet turns on by itself. It has one of those sensor things that you run your hands under and the water starts automatically. Great if you’re not into adjusting temperature. Unfortunately, those are the places that have either a balky paper towel dispenser that you have to use a crank to get a towel out off, thereby running another risk of infection from those who chose to towel and not wash, or one of those rolling cloth towel dispensers like the pub I went to in Victoria. Very antique, very authentic, very cute, and very loaded with germs. Sometimes the place will have one of those toilet or urinal sensors, so you can avoid soiling your hands on icky toilet handles. But those sensors seem to only work when you turn away, so I’m never really sure if someone in the other room isn’t watching through the supposed little sensor window and flushing after I’ve zipped just to make it seem innocent. None of the places I’ve been to has automatic everything—towel, sink and toilet. Never. The fecal germ spreaders have won. Hide the green onions and the spinach. But what really frustrates me the most is the towel dispensers that have an automatic sensor that you can’t make work. You stand there with dripping hands, trying every contortion in St Vitus’ dance, shaking your hands like you’re developing a Polaroid picture, and nothing. Finally, in frustration, you turn away and out comes a towel. Ah, I get it. Turn away. Someone installed the urinal sensor by mistake. Or that guy in the other room got finished laughing.
America, ya gotta love it