Toilets
I am George Constaza.
Well, not quite, but George and I share some similarities and traits. We’re both overweight, somewhat balding, and continually searching our neighborhoods for clean, well-designed restrooms.
I’m starting to get pretty old and display all the attendant shortcomings that accompany aging. No need to list them here, save one: I am often in need of a restroom and, like George C, can come close to panic if I can’t find one. Case in point, I was in DC’s Dupont Circle neighborhood a couple of weeks ago. I’d driven in from Northern Virginia and the urge became urgent. I found a parking space on R Street and went to six establishment asking to use their restrooms. They all refused, save for a bookstore on Connecticut Avenue. Their restroom was up two flights of stairs and mercifully free…
Let me address the issue of toilet paper. If any restaurateur or maintenance engineer is reading this, I beseech you: Spend the extra pennies to get decent t.p. Giving your clients the shoddy, almost transparent single-sheet tissue found in even some upper-class establishments that should know better is an insult to your clients. Additionally, refrain from purchasing those black plastic dispensers that house a tire-like roll of paper. Too often, it’s impossible to tear off a few sheets of tissues because the paper in the dispenser is so compressed that its edge has melted into the roll. This leaves one with the unenviable task of clawing at the roll with fingernails until enough paper has been shredded to get the tire rolling.
The best restrooms are those found in such restaurants as the downtown Ritz Carlton Café: Single-user rooms decked in dark wood paneling with triple-ply paper and piped-in Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. Though I’ve never done it, I’ve been tempted to eat there rather than in the dining room. It is embarrassing to remember that in my impoverished younger days, I would have stolen several rolls of their paper, since I couldn’t afford multi-ply myself.
At a favorite Middle Eastern restaurant, the bathroom features a spray nozzle attached to the toilet tank, thus allowing a user to rinse after using the facilities. Islam allows believers to clean themselves using toilet paper, leaves, stones, etc., instead of water if certain conditions are met. Consult https://www.al-feqh.com/en/the-ruling... for more information. Note: I have not entered a lady’s bathroom—Muslim or otherwise—since high school, when I did so on a dare and suffered endless taunts, so my advice is mostly aimed at men.
On the subject of toilets, let me state here that slamming the toilet seat down prior to use is considered highly impolite. No one needs a startling explosion when ensconced in a stall, so don’t do it.
When I traveled extensively for work, I often ended up in what were then called developing countries. Rural inns and restaurants’ toilets were often no more than shoe-size footrests. One squatted there and prayed for balance. This was a long way from the now-popular toilet footstools available on Amazon and Ali Baba and found in the truly upper crust establishments.
Enough for now. I’m sure I will revisit the subject again. As George C might say, I wish you a day flushed with pride.
Well, not quite, but George and I share some similarities and traits. We’re both overweight, somewhat balding, and continually searching our neighborhoods for clean, well-designed restrooms.
I’m starting to get pretty old and display all the attendant shortcomings that accompany aging. No need to list them here, save one: I am often in need of a restroom and, like George C, can come close to panic if I can’t find one. Case in point, I was in DC’s Dupont Circle neighborhood a couple of weeks ago. I’d driven in from Northern Virginia and the urge became urgent. I found a parking space on R Street and went to six establishment asking to use their restrooms. They all refused, save for a bookstore on Connecticut Avenue. Their restroom was up two flights of stairs and mercifully free…
Let me address the issue of toilet paper. If any restaurateur or maintenance engineer is reading this, I beseech you: Spend the extra pennies to get decent t.p. Giving your clients the shoddy, almost transparent single-sheet tissue found in even some upper-class establishments that should know better is an insult to your clients. Additionally, refrain from purchasing those black plastic dispensers that house a tire-like roll of paper. Too often, it’s impossible to tear off a few sheets of tissues because the paper in the dispenser is so compressed that its edge has melted into the roll. This leaves one with the unenviable task of clawing at the roll with fingernails until enough paper has been shredded to get the tire rolling.
The best restrooms are those found in such restaurants as the downtown Ritz Carlton Café: Single-user rooms decked in dark wood paneling with triple-ply paper and piped-in Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis Jr. Though I’ve never done it, I’ve been tempted to eat there rather than in the dining room. It is embarrassing to remember that in my impoverished younger days, I would have stolen several rolls of their paper, since I couldn’t afford multi-ply myself.
At a favorite Middle Eastern restaurant, the bathroom features a spray nozzle attached to the toilet tank, thus allowing a user to rinse after using the facilities. Islam allows believers to clean themselves using toilet paper, leaves, stones, etc., instead of water if certain conditions are met. Consult https://www.al-feqh.com/en/the-ruling... for more information. Note: I have not entered a lady’s bathroom—Muslim or otherwise—since high school, when I did so on a dare and suffered endless taunts, so my advice is mostly aimed at men.
On the subject of toilets, let me state here that slamming the toilet seat down prior to use is considered highly impolite. No one needs a startling explosion when ensconced in a stall, so don’t do it.
When I traveled extensively for work, I often ended up in what were then called developing countries. Rural inns and restaurants’ toilets were often no more than shoe-size footrests. One squatted there and prayed for balance. This was a long way from the now-popular toilet footstools available on Amazon and Ali Baba and found in the truly upper crust establishments.
Enough for now. I’m sure I will revisit the subject again. As George C might say, I wish you a day flushed with pride.
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