Published: January 19, 2008 07:41 pm         

Let’s call it an exercise in bathroom humor

There’s a very good reason why they probably wouldn’t do this at home.

Some of my friends were discussing what to put on a new sign in their place of business when I recently went to visit them, and they asked if I had any suggestions as to how it should be worded.

They were in a grim mood, much like that of Howard Beale (played by Peter Finch) in “Network” when he urged his viewers to open their windows, stick their heads out and yell, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take this any more!”

It had nothing to do with being told that the light bulbs were free, but the education that came with them wasn’t. Rather, it involved the fact that a plumber had to be summoned one too many times to fix a fixture that shouldn’t need fixing under normal use and circumstances.

“Somebody’s flushing it by kicking the handle with his foot,” one of my friends said. “They bust it, and it leaks all over the place. We’re going to put up a sign that tells people if we catch them doing it, they’re outta here.”

They had no idea who the culprit is, although half of the potential suspects could be eliminated because the fixture in question is mounted on the wall — not on the floor — and is therefore accessible (under normal use and circumstances) to only half of the patrons.

Now, I’ve been in establishments where I’ve resorted to operating a floor-mounted fixture with my foot because I didn’t want to get my bare hands anywhere near the handle. I imagine that many of you understand why and have done the same.

However, this particular wall-mounted fixture is in a place that is kept scrupulously clean. There’s a sink with hot running water and soap and paper towels right next to it.

So I asked my friends, Who could be doing this? I know most of the people who come in here, and they’re too old or too fat ... or both ... to lift a foot high enough off the ground and have it impact the handle with sufficient oomph to launch the flushing process.

Just to be sure I knew what I was talking about, I went to examine the fixture in question and refresh my knowledge of it.

Returning to my friends, I told them that, having been a proficient kicker of footballs in my younger days, I still could get my right foot high enough to reach the flushing handle. It was a different story with the left foot.

However, the effort it would take to raise my right foot and push it against the handle with enough force to initiate flushing would probably cause me to lose my balance and fall on my (part that would sit on the nearby floor-mounted fixture), and we all chuckled at the image that invoked.

Another fellow we know came in and asked what was going on, so I explained.

“Lazy (offspring of informal liaisons) won’t even take the time to wash their hands,” he said. “They wouldn’t do something like that at home.” I told him they probably don’t have a wall-mounted fixture at home, and he said I had a good point.

As to what should be on the warning sign, here’s what I suggested:

“If you flush this with your foot and we catch you, OUR foot will be in your (part that would sit on the floor-mounted fixture), sending you out the door!”

They laughed and said they liked that. However, the sign they ultimately put up said, “DO NOT FLUSH WITH YOUR FOOT. If caught, you will be required to pay for the damages.”

Call it their version of a flush tax.

And when I went back the next day, the fixture was leaking again.

——————

Nowadays, most Americans of any gender are familiar with at least the concept of the wall-mounted flushing fixture, but we haven’t always been as worldly.

What follows is a true story. It happened in the early 1960s, and I heard about it in Uncle Abe’s barbershop, where I received a substantial part of my early education.

Aunt Frances was a teacher in West Virginia and had to spend a couple of weeks at Shepherd College one summer. Not wanting her mom to be alone, my cousin Cyndy went with her.

They arrived on campus and were assigned to what during the regular school year was a men’s dormitory. After they checked into their room, unpacked and were in all respects settled in, they went to wash up.

What greeted them in the washing-up place was the sight of several female teachers gathered around a row of wall-mounted fixtures similar to the one discussed earlier.

Having discovered that pushing the handle on one of these fixtures would produce a cascade of water, the women were examining them with great curiosity and speculating about their purpose.

Uncle Abe said, “Their best guess was that it was something to wash your hair in.”

It was at this point that my aunt intervened. She reminded the ladies that this was a men’s dormitory at other times and asked them to consider the likelihood that most women wash their hair more often then most men do. If these wall-mounted fixtures were meant for hair-washing, they should also be found in women’s restrooms, but they are not.

She added a few other gently worded hints about the reasons that different fixtures might be found in men’s and women’s facilities and gave them a little time to sink in.

Abe said the light of understanding gradually found its way into each of the ladies’ eyes and they went on about their business, a bit wiser than they’d been when the day began.

All I can say is it’s a damn good thing Frannie got there when she did.