As I suspected, I have been deluged with potty e-mail. I’m still wading through it all, but one thing is already clear. This is clearly the most important issue of our time, and we must start this long overdue national conversation. My apologies to Derb, who apparently covered much of the same territory a while back. Basically, there’s widespread consensus that We, The Hygienic are a lot cleaner under our clothes than anything we might encounter in a public bathroom. If anything, we should be washing our hands before we commence the launch sequence, as it were.
Amidst all of the rants and huzzahs this has elicited, I think this was the most surprising e-mail:
Where on earth do you encounter dirty service station restrooms? Haven’t seen one in years.
What’s that now? Really? As someone who has driven cross country more than a half-dozen times over the last decade, I could tell you stories. But why go so far afield? The last time I went into the Exxon station at the D.C. side of the Key Bridge in Georgetown (my daughter had an emergency) I was sure that I had luckily just missed the cadre of diarrhetic Orcs who were clearly using that room to learn how to cook Indian food. Holding her in my arms, I aimed my small child in the general vicinity of the toilet as best I could, forbidding her to touch anything.
Anyway, I’m off to a thing, so I’ll wade through the e-mail more tomorrow.
Aim high!