Another Bathroom Episode

I already wrote an extensive list of things that bother me about public bathrooms a couple of months ago – a lengthy complaint that I thought pretty much covered everything I don’t like about the public bathroom experience.

However, last week, I witnessed yet another peculiar behavior in my office bathroom that left me wondering about the essential nature of man. I figured I might as well document it and add to my account:

No Hands, Ma

It’s funny, I’ve worked with this guy for a few years now, and never saw him do this in the bathroom until very recently, when I saw him do it twice in one week.

He was standing at the urinal when he unzipped, "took it out" to relieve himself (I’m only guessing he did this last part, I wasn’t watching that closely, and it's a reasonable thing to presume he did it) – and then he put his hands on his hips when he began urinating. Both of them! He kind of arched his back a bit (and therefore, pushed his hips forward so he kind of humped himself into the urinal), and stood there sort of like one of those idealized portraits of Superman, when he’s on top of a building or something and his cape is flapping behind him in the breeze. Let me tell you, it is fucking strange seeing a guy puffing his chest out like that when he’s staring at a wall, with his cock hanging out of his pants in the urinal in front of him.

This guy, he also falls into the category of people who talk to you when you are doing your own bathroom business, so it was unavoidable for me to notice this. So, why did he do it? Shouldn’t there be at least one hand around front for aiming purposes? What if he decided to do this at some point, and he ended up peeing all over his pants because he wasn't pointed in the right direction? So, besides being an eccentric way to take a piss, using a urinal this way doesn't make any functional, logical sense to me at all.

And if this wasn’t unusual enough, he actually stretched his hands out over his head as he took his leak. Arching his back, he tried to touch the ceiling tiles above the urinal as he relieved himself.

Him (hands proudly on his hips): It’s finally warming up out there, eh?
Me (trying to make my way out the door): Yah, it sure is.
Him (stretching to ceiling tiles): Uhhnn! (His wife) and I are going to North Carolina in two weeks, so it should be perfect weather here when we get back.
Me: Uh-huh. (Edging towards the door)

And what happened next, it took the cake for me. He put his hands behind his head, and began to gyrate in front of the urinal like Elvis Presley, jerking his hips from side to side as he tried to shake out the last few drops.

Him: Ha, ha! No matter how much you squirm and dance, the last drop always goes in your pants. Isn’t that right?
Me: Goodbye now! (speeding from the bathroom)

I wish it wasn’t too much to ask that people kept this kind of creepy behavior to their own homes. But to have that expectation is to forget the cardinal rule: people are morons.

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