Indoor plumbing is a First World luxury we all take for granted. We get the urge, we find a bathroom, we do our business, wipe, flush, hopefully wash our hands and move on with our day. If we partake of that large cup of coffee or cranberry juice on our commute to work, we do so with the knowledge that a bathroom will soon be available for us to relieve ourselves when and if the need should arise.
What an unwelcome surprise it was this morning when I discovered that the men’s room in the underground bus terminal at Denver Union Station was closed for remodeling. Sadly, this was a morning when holding it just wasn’t an option in my 42-year-old universe.
How nice it was when a kindly security guard directed me to a temporary porta potty in the loading area outside. What was not so nice was when I discovered that there was no toilet paper available within the structure. And darn it… I was out of Kleenex in my giant man purse.
I will not go into detail as to the creative problem solving I employed to deal with this unfortunate obstacle in my day. I will only say that, thank God, a hand sanitizer pump was available at the conclusion of my 19th-century experience.
The rest of my commute passed in comfort and, to the best of my knowledge, no stains were present in my boxers. I did take great care not to shake hands with anyone along the way. Of course, the bathroom at work was my first stop, where I privately rejoiced in the sound of the swirling water in the porcelain bowl and washed my hands (twice) with anti-bacterial soap.
One last nugget of wisdom… Orange Gatorade is a great way to wash the crappy taste out of your mouth if you have to.
