How wonderful that we have something to distract us from the drama of the never-ending political race for the presidency. Unfortunately that thing is the national bathroom identity crisis.
We’ve come a long way from that old joke book – “Race to the Outhouse by Willie Make-It and Betty Won’t.” Now the book would be entitled, “Who’s in the Outhouse – Willie or Betty? And are they in the correct one? And does it really matter anyway?”
Yes, it matters. While I am sympathetic with people in the world who have struggles that I don’t relate to and don’t consider a struggle, I wish that kind of sympathy would be returned to those of us who simply don’t want a person of the opposite sex catching a glimpse of us and our children through the cracks in the stall.
It’s disconcerting enough (but forgivable and understandable) when some little kid peeks under the stall while I’m sitting there taking care of business, or when someone tries the door and because the lock is loose the door flies open; but I don’t want to see anyone that can pee standing up looking down at me in that situation. You can be sure I won’t give the typical, “Oh, it’s fine,” response. I will likely unleash my pepper spray. (Note to self: Look for a pepper spray coupon in Sunday’s paper.)
If there is a silver lining here, it’s that I no longer have to be embarrassed if I accidentally go in the wrong restroom (which I have done before). I wonder if maybe those businesses that have strange hieroglyphics that are supposed to instruct us as to which bathroom to use were actually preparing for the future. Confusion is everywhere, but we don’t have to take this sitting down. Unless you’re a woman, that is.
And what about the businesses that sell enormous drinks like the Big Gulp from 7-11 or Venti coffee from Starbucks. I’ll bet those sales are down. Of course, those humongous cups could come in handy if we get in a real jam.
Seriously though, I know that I always need to be on guard wherever I am. I realize that I need not be concerned about most of the people that I run into along life’s path. So when I say that danger is lurking around every corner, dressing room curtain, and bathroom stall, you know what I mean. What really grieves me is that we as a nation are allowing ourselves to be caught with our pants down as we pander to every single exception to every single rule in an effort to tolerate everything. It’s exhausting. I think that is part of the goal of the movement (pun intended) – – wear us out until we give up. Let’s not give up. Let’s show kindness, but for sure…