“I’ve been everywhere, man
I’ve been everywhere, man
Crossed the deserts bare, man
I’ve breathed the mountain air, man
Of travel I’ve had my share, man
I’ve been everywhere.”
/Johnny Cash
Let’s face it. If you drive north or south, east or west on America’s Interstates you will eventually need to stop at a Rest Stop. For most of us, it’s not really a rest stop. It’s a bathroom stop. Well, actually, it’s not really a bathroom stop, unless you’re planning to take off your shirt or blouse and sponge bathe in front of a public sink. So, it’s really a place to take care of your #1 or #2 needs.
Usually, your visit requires that you park your car. Walk a ways to the entrance of a building and look for the door that reads: Men or Women.
I’m not exactly sure what you do if you don’t fit into one of those categories but, that’s another subject for someone who is better acquainted with these issues. So, I’ll just park that aside and move on to the matter at hand.
Once you’ve decided what your needs might be (#1 or #2) it’s simply a matter of entering the appropriate area and as we say to our sweet puppy “Do your business.” Once you finish it’s up with your drawers, up with your zippers, up with your suspenders (if you are of a certain age) and off you go to the hand washing station.
The big dilemma here is if you’ll find some soap. Sometimes you’ll find a soap squirter and sometimes you won’t. Sometimes it’s full and sometimes it’s empty (or, it only has a smidge left in the bottle). If there’s only a smidge in the bottle, you’ll have to pump it about 10 times to hopefully, and I did say “hopefully” get a drop of liquid soap to remove anything on your hands that shouldn’t be there. Once you’re done you shake your hands 12 times to extract the water.
“Why 12 times? 12 Apostles, 12 Signs, 12 Zodiac Signs, 12 months. Why 12 months? The one I like the best? It’s the biggest number with one syllable.”
/Joe Smith, TED Talks about hand washing
And, then there’s the hand dryer. With some hand dryers you slide your hands into the appropriate slots and a jet engine blow off the excess water. Hopefully, that’s all it blows off. I generally keep an eye on my hands when they are in this contraption to be sure my skin and muscles aren’t pasted on the dryer wall.
So, that’s about it. You’re ready to exit the Rest Room. Except, there’s one more thing. You encounter a sign that reads: “How did we do? Please tell us how your experience was using this Rest Room. Text here and leave a message.
Well, I thought about it. I almost saved their text info. But, then I wondered, “Exactly how much information do they want from me?” “Were the floors wet?” “Did they put up the Caution, Floor Wet” sign?” “How many CCs did I deposit?” “How did my #2 work out?” “Was the guy in the next stall responsive when I asked him if he had any toilet paper?” “Did the room smell?” And, then I stopped. This shit is getting too personal. So, I left. Maybe I’ll be in a better frame of mind to respond next time I visit.
“I’ve been to Boston, Charleston, Dayton, Louisiana
Washington, Houston, Kingston, Texarkana
Monterey, Faraday, Santa Fe, Tallapoosa
Glen Rock, Black Rock, Little Rock, Oskaloosa
Tennessee to Tennesse Chicopee, Spirit Lake
Grand Lake, Devils Lake, Crater Lake, for Pete’s sake.”
/Johnny Cash