I love urinals. Love ’em.
It’s simply an issue of convenience, and really, of cleanliness. Every time I walk into a bathroom where all the urinals are occupied, I sigh, knowing the next logical step is to squeeze myself into a stall with a door that probably won’t lock, and there’s a good chance I’ll be greeted by something foul once I’ve stepped inside.
Urinals are just better. They’re quicker and quieter and altogether better suited to the job. Sometimes I fantasize that one day I’ll hit it big and “MTV Cribs” will want to see my house, and my grand tour will begin in the bathroom, where I’ve installed a state-of-the-art urinal so I can have this one saving grace of public bathrooms in the privacy of my home. Sometimes my dream urinal is gold plated, just to make it more “Cribs” appropriate.
But alas, this may forever remain a fantasy, and odds are I’ll have to get my quality urinal time in public restrooms around the world, alongside other patrons who may not revere the urinal as I do, which brings me to the one problem that urinal users just can’t seem to escape: the lack of an established and widely followed code of conduct for all urinal patrons.
Anyone who’s ever used a urinal knows what I mean (unfortunately, this does largely exclude women, although I once read an article on the inventor of the female urinal and his, and humanity’s, broken dreams). There’s a million ways a perfectly enjoyable trip to the urinal can turn sour, or worse yet, be impeded by someone’s reckless disregard for the rest of the population’s need to use them.
I started thinking about the issues that arise from a lack of any concrete rules on urinal etiquette after an experience I had on campus a few weeks ago. Stepping out of my creative writing class, I realized my bladder was nearly as stimulated as my mind. I thought of all the commodes I might visit on campus, settling in the end on the closest and most convenient. It just didn’t feel like the right time to make a trip to one of the University’s quirkier, more scenic bathrooms. This was the wrong call.
As I walked into that second floor McKenzie bathroom, I realized my mistake. If you’ve never been, the door opens into a wall that hides the three urinals behind it. I turned the corner, fully intending to make use of one of these urinals, and hopefully one on the end, as this particular bathroom is conspicuously without partitions in between. What I saw on the other side of that wall stopped me in my tracks, and is an example of one of the more heinous missteps in urinal etiquette.
A man stood at the middle urinal, his stance wide, his breathing heavy, his entire presence foreboding. I sighed and moved past the urinals, my beloved urinals, and into a particularly cramped stall nearby. Even that was more comfortable that trying to squeeze between a person and a wall just to have the full public restroom experience.
This man didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure, but his negligence is a perfect example of why it always pays to be mindful. If he’d made any other choice, or even just placed his feet closer together, we could have both enjoyed the wonder that is a urinal. As it was, I was just sad.
So, next time you use a urinal, be mindful, be aware, and please don’t hog the whole wall of the porcelain marvels. If that’s too much to ask, then you may as well stop worrying about holes in your jeans or underwear, or letting your pants slip, because if you’ve occupied all the urinals, your asshole is showing.
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