Pee stop
I really had to go. The most convenient stopping place was a Whole Foods market just off the road to my right. I pulled into the parking lot, found a spot near the entrance and hurried inside. It was a relatively new store, open just a few years, nicely lit, spacious, contemporary, but I didn’t spend a lot of time ogling. As I said, I really had to go.
The restrooms were in the front of the store, just beyond the checkout lanes. I cut through an open aisle that was closest to the men’s room. A clerk stood idly by waiting for a customer. She looked up and smiled at me as I passed. I would return to her lane on my way out and buy a bottle of water. I’m old-fashioned in that way. If I enter a store to use the bathroom, I usually purchase something as compensation.
There is a moment when you walk into a public restroom that defines whether the visit will indeed be a “rest” or, conversely, a “hold your breath, don't touch anything and get through this quickly” experience. It was immediately apparent that the Whole Foods restroom was - dare I say it - a breath of fresh air. Clearly, Whole Foods was using some kind of automatic air scenting device that gave the room a light aroma suggestive of a verdant forest. Redwood. No, Douglas fir. Old growth. With a thick blanket of ferns and moss. Never mind that I was thousands of miles away from the nearest old growth forest. It smelled wonderful. Plus there was a gentle, but effective, exhaust fan that re-circulated the air of the room. The lighting was subdued – a mix of fluorescent and incandescent (were those full spectrum bulbs over the mirror?). Mexican tiles lined the walls. The sink and countertop were glistening. The porcelain fixtures were spotless. This, my friends, was a pee I was going to enjoy.
And pee I did. I unzipped and let flow a torrent to compete with the discharge from Victoria Falls. I totally gave over to this pee, letting go of the day's trials and tribulations. Yes, I even emitted an audible sigh of relief. My mind emptied along with my bladder. I closed my eyes. I was approaching a transcendental state filled with hope and optimism that I felt could carry me through the rest of my life. But just like that, my meditative cocoon burst like a needle in a balloon. Out of nowhere came this loud, piercing noise. The cry of a witch.
Eeeeeeehhhheehhhhheehhhhheehhhhhh!
It was the automatic flushing mechanism. The urinal had a built in sensor that told it when the user had finished his business and moved away so that it could dowse the bowl with clean water. In the midst of my blissful voiding I must have rocked a little to the side and triggered the flush. Man, what a flush! A wall of water cascaded into the bowl. But what about that noise? A valve in need of lubrication? Sound waves resonating from the high pressure water line? Whatever the cause, it was startling. Jolting, even. And I wasn't finished. You know what I'm saying? A very embarrassing situation was narrowly averted.
I wanted to find the manager at Whole Foods and tell him of the incident in his restroom. A good pee gone bad, that’s what it was. Maybe other men have complained, marching up to the office with big wet spots on the front of their pants from the screaming demon in the pipes. The thing is this: if you want to provide an enjoyable, high-tech bathroom experience for your customers, then you need to take care of the equipment. Keep it in good working order. Properly calibrated. QAQC and all that. I should have done it. I should have given that manager a piece of my mind. Instead, I picked up a bottle of spring water for the chiller, paid the smiling checkout girl and left.
10:08:31 PM  Stories
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