There's nothing greater than walking into a public restroom... and discovering that oh no, they have automatic toilets. Or automatic sinks, or whatever the case may be. These evil things were clearly designee by someone who enjoys watching people suffer (see 'schaudenfreude').
First of all, the automatic toilets. Their chief joy in life is to flush precisely when you don't want them to. Even better is when you get a truly malicious one, which flushes for no apparent reason. A rest area we used while travelling had a toilet like that. It flushed when no one was even in the stall.
As an added bonus, the automatic ones often spray water up when they flush, and now it's on the seat... and possibly on you. Bonus points if there was water on the seat, and you didn't notice until you sat down. Either way, you'll have to bathe in disinfectant later.
Now, if you want them to flush, that's another story. Sometimes they choose to play dumb. In the end, you have to press the button for a manual flush... and then quickly turn and move as far away from it as possible (which isn't always much, considering you're sometimes in a tiny stall), because you know it'll probably spray up. In times like this, all you can think about is that one high school teacher, who said that germs fly everywhere when a toilet is flushed. And now you'll be thinking about it for the rest of your life, sorry about that.
Now on to the sinks. You wave your hands around for about a year before it finally acknowledges your presence. The water finally come out... for about three seconds, and then it seems to think you're no longer there. You try to get its attention again, and get another brief stream of water before it shuts itself off.
Repeat this process until hands are clean. Note that it may take at least 50% longer than using a regular faucet. But hey, progress is everything! Technology makes our lives easier.
You thought you wanted to dry your hands? Ha ha, you're wrong. Those machines, especially the ones with the paper towels, are just as good at denying your existence as the sink. You'll have to wave your hand in front of the sensor, do a little dance, stand on your head, and recite the national anthem backwards while hopping on one foot. Then, if the machine is adequately impressed, it'll provide you with a paper towel. And after you tear it off, it'll promptly dispense another one, whether you wanted it or not, just to be defiant.
You've used all of these touch-free things; the sink, the towel dispenser. This is done for sanitary reasons, of course, to avoid contact with anything germy. And now, as Ellen DeGeneres said in a comedy routine, you grab the disease-ridden door handle and walk out of the room.
(On a related note, this is why some individuals have perfected the art of grabbing the handle with a paper towel or the hem of their shirt. But shh, don't tell the bacteria that. They think they've won.)
To finish this week's post, please enjoy a song that describes my feelings towards the automatic things in bathrooms.
First of all, the automatic toilets. Their chief joy in life is to flush precisely when you don't want them to. Even better is when you get a truly malicious one, which flushes for no apparent reason. A rest area we used while travelling had a toilet like that. It flushed when no one was even in the stall.
As an added bonus, the automatic ones often spray water up when they flush, and now it's on the seat... and possibly on you. Bonus points if there was water on the seat, and you didn't notice until you sat down. Either way, you'll have to bathe in disinfectant later.
Now, if you want them to flush, that's another story. Sometimes they choose to play dumb. In the end, you have to press the button for a manual flush... and then quickly turn and move as far away from it as possible (which isn't always much, considering you're sometimes in a tiny stall), because you know it'll probably spray up. In times like this, all you can think about is that one high school teacher, who said that germs fly everywhere when a toilet is flushed. And now you'll be thinking about it for the rest of your life, sorry about that.
Now on to the sinks. You wave your hands around for about a year before it finally acknowledges your presence. The water finally come out... for about three seconds, and then it seems to think you're no longer there. You try to get its attention again, and get another brief stream of water before it shuts itself off.
Repeat this process until hands are clean. Note that it may take at least 50% longer than using a regular faucet. But hey, progress is everything! Technology makes our lives easier.
You thought you wanted to dry your hands? Ha ha, you're wrong. Those machines, especially the ones with the paper towels, are just as good at denying your existence as the sink. You'll have to wave your hand in front of the sensor, do a little dance, stand on your head, and recite the national anthem backwards while hopping on one foot. Then, if the machine is adequately impressed, it'll provide you with a paper towel. And after you tear it off, it'll promptly dispense another one, whether you wanted it or not, just to be defiant.
You've used all of these touch-free things; the sink, the towel dispenser. This is done for sanitary reasons, of course, to avoid contact with anything germy. And now, as Ellen DeGeneres said in a comedy routine, you grab the disease-ridden door handle and walk out of the room.
(On a related note, this is why some individuals have perfected the art of grabbing the handle with a paper towel or the hem of their shirt. But shh, don't tell the bacteria that. They think they've won.)
To finish this week's post, please enjoy a song that describes my feelings towards the automatic things in bathrooms.
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