Using the restrooms in Scripps is an interesting experience. This is, of course, only from the male perspective. So far as I can tell, the ladies’ room is filled with all sorts of comforts, since a couch, a decorative wicker bookshelf and a potted plant are all viewable from the hallway in the bathroom’s odd little antechamber. I presume that inside there is a live three-piece band and you are carried to and from the marble toilet by handsome, blind and mute servants.
The men’s rooms are a rather different story. For one thing, the single stall contains a toilet that is height-adjusted so that Michael Jordan could do his business in comfort, should he for some reason come here. That is not, however, what really bothers me.
There are no latches on the men’s room stall doors. Any of them. For all three floors – believe me, I checked.
It seems to me that the point of the door latch in a modern bathroom is not really to keep people out. People don’t really want in when someone else is on the toilet. Usually, that would pretty much foil the very reason for which the average person would enter a bathroom.
No, The latch is merely there to help the unobservant or unwary among us from making themselves or the rest of us feel awkward by accidentally walking in and making eye contact with another person mid-poop. That is a moment of sudden horror that will haunt you in the middle of the night.
Perhaps this has to do with the spirit of journalism. Nothing is secret! Transparency is paramount! All that was once hidden shall now be revealed! Those who have no diarrhea have nothing to fear!
Oh, and wash your hands.