I am not an enormous fan of public bathrooms and I avoid them when I can.
However, there are times when you cannot avoid them, which is pretty much why they are there – at one time or another, everybody has to use one. Which is probably why they are called public.
But, you know what I really hate? I really hate being pointed to the bathrooms in an upscale restaurant and then when I arrive I cannot figure out which door to enter. Is there some kind of contest in upscale restaurants to see which one can have the most ambiguous signs for men and women?
Look, when I head for the bathroom, I have business to take care of. I’m not going just to check for the decor or the possible artistic content; I have something to do. The last thing I want to do is to stand there and try to figure out if I am the cow or the bull when both of them have things hanging south. In one restaurant, I had to figure out if I was the circle or the stick.
I do not want to play this game. Not when I am on a mission.
So, last night I was headed into the restroom in a very nice midtown restaurant. After a long, friendly and very delicious dinner with people I truly enjoy, the waiter pointed me, at my request, to the ladies room. In most restaurant, the ladies room is right next to the mens room, as it was in this one. I turn the corner and see something that resembles a Chinese word on the wall, which was really strange because this was a Salva /Tex restaurant. All I could think was, damn, I wish I hadn’t had that Margarita and crap, I don’t read Chinese.
There I stood, in great need of business and I cannot for the life of me figure out the two symbols, but I am damn near certain that they are Korean algebra or something.
I swear on all that is holy that I stood there for two full minutes waiting for someone else to come along and enter one of the doors and pray that it was someone wearing gender specific clothes. As my ears were starting to leak, I closed my eyes and then focused again on the two symbols until I was at least 25% certain that one was an M and the other was an F.
Just as I make my decision, a man comes out of that door. Now I have to ask myself, was he as confused as I am and went into the F room by mistake?
I finally decided that I am 65 years old and can play senile with the best of them. I walked in a door, completed my task, and walked out. There was nothing hanging on the wall, so I suspect I picked correctly.
But, if I ever end up in jail for puddling outside a bathroom door, make sure the headline says, “What Is Wrong With Putting MEN and WOMEN on Bathroom Doors?”