Urinalysis: a multi-part study of the behaviors, codes, customs and characters of the workplace restroom

By Merton Sussex

Study #3: Cocoa Choo-Choo

We've all been there, each of us. There we are, sitting on the bowl, and minding our own business...when suddenly, the big, heavy (and always squeaky) swinging door opens up, and someone else walks into the room. Just strooolls on in like they hold a deed to the joint.

This, without fail, makes me uncomfortable.

Now, I'm not one of these pee-shy types who can't drain my vein in the public restroom. I'm a man, after all. We can, and do, pretty much pee anywhere. It's a biologically instinctual holdover from when we were still living short, violent lives on the Serengeti. It's border definition. I mean, why do you think they call it "writing your name in the snow"? You're essentially marking your territory.

But dropping a deuce? That's another matter entirely. When loaf-pinchin', I like a little privacy. Maybe that's strange, but it's sort of the way I am. Or, maybe it's everyone. Hard to say. The nature of the thing means it's not something I necessarily discuss with others. But that being said, I'm willing to bet that if any of us were dropping the kids off at the pool at HOME and a stranger walked in to nonchalantly pee in the sink, our brown-eye is clamping shut like a vise. I don't care if this is the initial sit-down after a beer and taco bender, your starfish is suddenly going to work overtime to hold in the tide of dung at all costs.

In my experience, there are several reasons for this.

One: Having a nice whizz is easy. It just involves whipping out the unit, and letting go. Aaah. No problem. But extruding a dook is a slightly more involved process. Out of necessity, you must partially disrobe, which means you're essentially half-naked. At work. Which isn't the norm. At least, most places I'VE worked, it hasn't been. So that's sort of uncomfortable to begin with.

Two: Piss is doesn't really have much of an odor when fresh. It just sort of comes out, and then drains into the bottom of the urinal unobtrusively. Scat, on the other hand...Is pretty much the extreme end of the stinky spectrum. Hence the tried and true expression: "That smells like SHIT!" to indicate that something has a foul odor. So, the moment it starts to slither its way out of your dirt-star, your immediate sphere becomes tainted with about the foulest odor imaginable all at once. And, being that most of us try to AVOID smelling nasty at work, this can be a bit tough to deal with from a psychological standpoint.

Three: Urine doesn't have much of a sound. If anything, it sort of trickles, like a babbling yellow brook. A brook full of salts and acids, sure. But it's not an embarrassing sound. In fact, some people buy little machines or fountains that produce that sound to help them relax. That being said, whosoever amongst us has been able to tell PRIOR to copping a squat what sort of borborygmal horrors awaited them upon attempting to empty the plumbing? Call them what you want: "Bronx cheers," "raspberries," or maybe even the classically Carlin-esque, "bi-labial fricative," but they're all just phew-phemisms for the same thing: Farts. And possibly even big, juicy ones that rattle the windows. Of course, because the nerve endings in our colons are slightly less-sensitive than Josef Mengele, we can't tell the gas pockets from legitimate boxcars on the Turd Express. So, you could be straining, sweating, bearing down and trying to expel what feels like a pineapple; but if it really winds up just being methane, you'd better believe it's coming out with all of the force you've seen fit to push with. And of course, the porcelain basin is a perfect natural amplifier. So, you'll probably freeze, and vainly hope that, because the bathroom is empty otherwise, nobody else heard it. But in reality, the guy who was in there just ran out to alert his manager two floors away to call the Bomb Squad. And naturally, by the time he gets there, said manager has already had them en route to your stall since before the fart itself even tapers off to that little stuttering mosquito-whine at the end.

Four: Mess. A wee-wee just involves a shake and tuck when done. Poo requires cleanup. Gotta get in there, and restore order once Shitty Shitty Bang Bang motors down Hershey Highway. And it's not like most companies these days can afford to spring for the good paper. Nope...Chances are you're attempting to wipe with quarter-ply "RuffStuff™ 95% Recycled Wood Pulp Bathroom Tissue" that not only feels like 40-grit on your tenderest of tissue, but is thinner than Sarah Palin's résumé. So there's always the risk you'll break through while attempting to scour out the really persistent dingleberries, and wind up giving yourself an impomptu rectal exam.

Five: A good colon-expulsion takes awhile sometimes. That's why so many people bring a newspaper: we've got an awful lot of Play-Doh™ to wring out of those puckered little Fun Factories of ours, and we might as well multi-task. And, when at work, you never know what your excretory habits cost the company in terms of lost productivity. And who needs that kind of pressure? I don't. So no matter what, I try my best not to involve solids in any of my workplace restroom trips. I'm not always successful, but I AM always diligent. This is because I enjoy my co-workers. But not in such a way that I can shit comfortably while they're less than 10 feet away. At least, not when one or the other of us isn't paying for the privilege.

Six: Public toilets are just that...public. And, yeah. I know That the Center For Using Government Grants to Study Ridiculous Things has determined that the toilet seat in the average restroom is cleaner than the inside of your mouth, and that the only way to catch something from it is if you sit down before the last guy gets up. I don't care. I'm no Howie Mandel germophobe, but I still don't know who got here before me. However, due to the fact that the pubes on the seat are the approximate thickness and color of industrial power cable, I'm guessing someone of at least Eastern European extraction, if not full-on Fertile Crescent.

So, for these reasons and more, I like to play it like the dude from American Pie and shit at home whenever possible. It's not always a possibility, but I feel it's important to have realistic goals in life.