Writing On The Stall
So I had to go on a sudden “Nature break” in the middle of my shift a couple of days ago - hey, it happens to the best of us. Luckily, it was a night shift so nothing adrenaline-rush-inducing was happening at the time. Anyway, as you are all quite intimately aware of the process of going in a public washroom stall, there’s really not much you can do other than doing your thing…and reading all the enlightening messages scrawled on the stall door.
A lot of these messages are often diligently scrubbed off by the cleaning staff during the night. But some writers have a penchant for carrying a Sharpie around in their back pockets - and those are the gems forever immortalized on the stall door to amuse and inspire all those who must occasionally perch on that particular porcelain throne.
I read an interesting mix that night. There were the usual “[Undecipherable Name] waz here” messages. There was also a well-rounded portion of hate messages thrown in as well:
[So-and-So] is a doosh-bag. He stole my $$ and won’t admit it. Fucking doosh.
Running commentary: Okay, first of all, just to get this pet peeve of mine out of the way, it’s spelled “douche bag” - the word originated from French. Secondly, you obviously didn’t have your creative juices running. If you had, you would have been able to prevent the theft in the first place. And even if it was unavoidable, you would have at least been able to come up with a second different diss…instead of “doosh-bag” and then basically the same thing again minus “-bag”. It would give your insult a stronger oomph, yes?
[Whatshisface] fucks dogs.
Running commentary: Hmm…you gotta give him props for getting right down to the nitty-gritty of the graphic image. Gold star for being concise. A poop-flavoured scratch-and-sniff sticker for bringing up that inappropriate image in my mind and disrupting my concentration on having a smooth “Nature break”.
[Mystery-She] is a bitch!! She’s creepin with some dude. I just know it…WTF??
Running commentary: WTF, indeed. See, it all depends on if you “just know it” because you actually have evidence or you “just know it” because you have a suspicion. If it’s the former, dump her - obviously she doesn’t value your relationship so why should you? If it’s the latter though…well, good luck with that, mate. I hope you’re a religious man because your next step will have to involve praying for skill in delicacy and tact. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes.
It’s amazing how poetic some people can get when ejecting waste from their bodies. Let’s take a look at some of these inspiration words that night:
Shit happens. Wipe it off.
Running commentary: This is both literal and figurative. Bloody brilliant!
Don’t ball up the toilet paper! Think of how many trees you’ll save if you fold and use.
Running commentary: That is an absolutely valid observation. Although I always thought folding the toilet paper before wiping was second nature to everyone, but I guess some people need to be told that. I mean, c’mon…the entire roll is divided into foldable squares - it practically begs to be folded! Okay, don’t get too carried away with the technicalities. Focus on the trees. Yes…um…so the lesson here is: “Fold the brown, save the green!”
Privacy is a right for all humans. It is a means to preserve our individuality. So why doesn’t this goddamn door have a lock that works??
Running commentary: “Holy shit!” That was my first thought and it chased away all contemplations on the deepness of this message as I entered into panic mode. This door was unlocked the whole time?? But to my immense relief a second later, I discovered that the lock was in perfect working order. So this message is outdated. The latter part, that is.
Finally, I saw a message that really baffled me: “Stranded at airport. April 30/08.”
I must bow down to the gentleman who wrote this message. He must be the epitome of a Zen practitioner. If I were stranded at an airport and fuming over it in a public washroom and just happened to have a Sharpie in my back pocket, I would go ballistic and make sure every inch of the stall door was coated with permanent marker obscenities. Coated! I wouldn’t be able to sum up my fury with one sentence fragment. I’m pretty sure many people would feel the same way.
Venerable Sir, whoever you are, you have me deeply humbled. Thank you.
I saw some good ones in the Takhini gas station washroom the other day.
One read as follows: “God gave Noah / The rainbow sign / Not the water / But the fire this time”.
Another one, a poem that took me a couple of minutes to decipher, indicated that Man’s pathway to glory is shown in the bones of horses. I wish I could remember all the words, but that’s the crux of it.
Then, of course, there were the standard messages as you described above. Surprisingly, however, there was no message to “Call X for a good time”. That seems almost mandatory for the validation of any public washroom.
I really like the second one about “Man’s pathway to glory is shown in the bones of horses”.
Isn’t it ironic how the majority of Man’s greatest achievements are birthed in the contractions of war? Well, we don’t use horses in war anymore, but they have been huge assets for most parts of our world’s military history.
Glory in war - it’s a concept that’s still alive to this day and will probably never die.