Time for a Diaper Change!

There is something disturbing yet oddly comforting about a woman’s restroom. No matter where I go, or what state I am in, a woman’s public bathroom is practically all the same. There are seven sinks, two soap dispensers, and numerous floods surrounding every inch of the counter tops. Also, for some ungodly reason, the water in a public restroom is the worst smelling water that has ever existed. I’m not sure if the water is polluted with acid rain or it has consumed the germ ridden fumes that seeped out from under the stalls.

Either way, the “clean-up” station, needs a sanitizing clean-up of its own. So while women wait to semi wash their hands, we can stare at the unnecessary ambiance. There’s the fake flowers that hang from the ceilings and of course the ten year old decals that have been peeled off more than twice. These antique decors are simple the icing on the cake. The body of this dramatic pastry is in fact, its patrons. You got the elderly who spend roughly sixty minutes in the spectacular stall (I’m not even going to go there.) There’s the normal women who “get in and get out” (thank God) and how could I forget about….children.

The children are the worst part about a woman’s bathroom! They need a room of their own to destroy. As soon as a stroller comes in, women are in for thirty minutes of screaming, crying, and cheerios being flung all over the place. Clearly, this is cutting in to my “stare at the half-peeled decal time.” Now I have to hear a child who is up to my hip in height shouting, “I want to change my diaper! I need to change my diaper!” Honestly, parents, if your child can articulate that he needs a diaper change, it’s probably time introduce little Tommy to his new friend; the toilet.

Also, if I know about it, it’s probably unnecessary. But what’s comforting is the fact that I know I am guaranteed a laugh. Whenever I stumble into a public restroom, I know I will chuckle at least once. However, if you don’t want your kid to be the root of my joke, get him on that potty! The door says “Men” and “Women.” Last time I checked, little Tommy’s diaper fiasco should be sorted out some place else. Clearly, they need a room for themselves, this way I can smell the dirty water in peace.