The Great Bathroom Conspiracy
Alright, I have to know: What the hell is the deal with public bathrooms now? Seriously. I used to just let it go before, back when it was just the hangman's towels, figuring that it was a fluke, but not now. Not the way things are going, not with the compelling evidence that accrues. And what's worse, nobody is saying anything. Everyone is just in there like nothing is wrong, like they don't notice it. But no more. Not me. This is a conspiracy and someone has to point it out.
For starters, I saw it coming, just so you know. Yeah. I did. I remember the first time I seen one of them signs on the towel dispensers, the warnings about hanging yourself in the loop. You know the one's I'm talking about. They came on the rotating towel machines in public bathrooms, usually gas stations or car repair places, but other places too. You know which ones I mean.
Yeah, I remember going into to a bathroom at a restaurant a long time ago and seeing that thing, the sign, the warning sign. It seemed, you know, innocuous enough, but, it stuck in my head too. Stood out as a danger signal even to my little kid mind. I remember standing there looking at it, the machine's bright white paint standing out with the sun glinting off of it coming through the window, a loop of blue towel coming out of its front, hanging down a couple of feet and running back up into the machine from the bottom. The kind you have to pull down just right to get some dry towel to unroll, you know, so you don't have to "dry" your hands on the bacterial nightmare still soaked into the fabric from the last six people who couldn't get the loop to rotate either (and assuming it wasn't run out completely and just hanging straight down onto the floor, sopping up primordial ooze like the wick in some disgusting flameless lamp). So anyway, as I was yanking on it, I seen this little tag on it that said, "Placing your head through the loop and attempting to swing or hang from it can result in injury or death."
I was like, "Duh." I mean, even as a kid I knew that would have been a retarded thing to do, so, yeah. But it stuck out in my mind. Like, why was that there? Why even mention that? Sure, the easy answer is because some dipstick probably actually did that before, hung himself and all - but I don't think so. Not now, not given the modern trends, not with what is going on today. I think that was put there, that ridiculous warning that nobody needed to read, because of the Great Bathroom Conspiracy that is intent on making us look stupid when we go outside our homes.
I'm not sure what the purpose beyond that is, what they hope to gain. Honestly, it makes no sense. It might be a ploy by aliens or something. I seriously have no idea. But the things I am about to point out to you, the dots I am about to connect, well, it's going to make you sit back in awe. Prepare to be scared.
So here's where the plot comes forward in time. Yes, there's still a few of those old moron-maker looping towel things. But the technology for making us look like idiots has gotten so much stronger now. And it wasn't until the other day that I realized just how meticulous this bathroom cabal has been doing its conspiring restroom-based research.
For starters, look at the NEW towel machines. The laser ones. You know the ones I mean. With the little red light thingy that you have to wave your hands in front of to make the towel come out. Oh yeah. That's the one. My god. Do you have any idea how insidious those are? We wave our hands infront of it like it says for us to do (assuming it says anything all, most of the time the letters are all worn off, even the picture of the hand, so we have to assume it is one of those types of machines - and just how does that happen, by the way? How does lettering get worn off of a thing that's not supposed to ever be touched? Hmmm? I ask you, how?). So there we are, waving our hand at it. "Hi." "Hello?" "Can I get a frickin' towel yet." But no, no towel. So we front our hand over the light, palm forward, moving in and out now, not waving, just sliding back and forth in the air like we're playing some invisible trombone. Still nothing. Finally we give up and actually touch that thing, press our hand against the F-ing light. (Oh, that's where the letters go.) Still no towel. We tap it. Bang on. Stoop down and look up into the crack where the towel should come out. What the hell are we looking for? I mean, are you really going to jam your hand up there if you see something? I'm not. Have you seen the teeth in there? And it's not like I really know what I'm looking for anyway. Seriously, it's not like I'm going to try to fix it if it's broken. Are you? Do you even know how to fix one?
So we keep messing with it. We look around checking the sides, looking for a button. A crank. Something. Then the towel comes out. By itself. It's like, WTF? What did I do? But you're not done. Because even though it finally worked, you only got like, what, four inches of towel? What the hell are you going to do with that? Dry a mouse? So you have to go for the second wave. The second lame dancing with that stupid ass light. And eventually you get the towel so I guess everything's okay, right? I mean, at least it was sanitary and you didn't have to touch anything. Oh wait, yes you did, when you were beating on it the whole damn time. (Thus disproving any arguments the conspiracy tries to make on the grounds that their motives were purely sanitary.)
But that's not the end of the evil plan, nor is it the end of the evidence. That alien technology is everywhere in there. Think about when you were trying to wash your hands in there. Remember that? Remember you curling your hands up under the faucet and waggling them under the spigot, looking like you were wracked by palsy and having some kind of fit, all poking about, hands spastic beneath a dry faucet trying to get the water flowing by the increasingly panicked gesticulation of your hands. The water doesn't come out does it? So you think, "Hmmm, maybe I'm just dumb and missed the fancy handle or button or something up on top." So you look again for something you can turn or lift or press. You press down on the slimy spigot, but that doesn't work. Now what? Nope, that's the soap. Shit. Oh here... Some sinks have that little half-dollar sized silver circle thing that lies flush against the porcelain next to the faucet. You press that too. I mean, you knew it wasn't going to press just because it WAS lying flush against the porcelain. But you pressed it anyway, didn't you? Why? Because the aliens or whoever is winning that's why. Did you know that the conspirators call that thing the "Idiot Confirmation Button?" Do you have any idea how hard they are laughing right now?
So you wave your hands under the faucet again, certain it has to be one of those sensor ones since there obviously aren't any handles anywhere. Still nothing. You look around. Good, nobody saw that. You press the top of the faucet again, harder, even giving it a tap with your palm because, you know, it might be stuck. That's when someone else walks up and looks at you like you're a tard. They wave their hands under their sink and the water comes out right away. (Personally, I think this person is an agent of the cabal, but you are free to think whatever you would like.) Seeing this, you wave your hand under your faucet again too, and, yep, the water finally comes pouring out. I'm telling you, there's evil at work here.
And what about the toilets themselves? Hmmm? I mean, I'm a guy so, you know, I don't really sit on public potties all that much. If I can make it home for that kind of thing, I will. But occasionally, sure, and ladies? All the time. And how's that working out for you, girls? Hmm? You walk in, seems harmless enough, lock the door. Pull out the little paper seat cover thing. You lay it out carefully, the middle part sort of falling into the water below. You always hope the water won't soak all the way up it even though it never does. But, there, everything is set. You turn around and, as you prepare to lower youself onto that crackling paper barrier for your bum... FLUSH... there went your ass-gasket right down the drain.
"WTF?" you say, turning in time to see it swirling away. All your preparation and sanitary care, gone. You look around, maybe check to see if you hit some pedal on the floor even though you know you didn't. That's when you spot that dark lens staring back at you from the center of the plumbing pipes, behind it the tiny red eye. "Ugh, one of those."
So, this time, being more careful about trying not to move so as to set it off, you reset a new ass-gasket and once more take a seat. With luck, you're fine and everything else goes as you had hoped. Except that, now, when you go to stand up, the auto-flush doesn't work.
No big deal, you get up and get yourself put back together, but, despite moving around for all of that, the secret eye isn't doing its magic flushing thing anymore. Being the polite and more hygienic sex, you aren't willing to leave it like that for the next person to come along, so you lean over and wave your hand. Nothing. You wave a foot. Nothing. (I've even hear tales of people who expect it to flush when they get up, to sit back down and try getting up again. This technique can become more like exercise if you have a particularly stubborn sensor going on.) Finally, unwilling to spend all day on such a thing, courteous though it may be, you say, "Screw it then," and walk out. The toilet flushes as you are walking out the door. It's like it was waiting till you go out. Not far out, just out. So you can hear it. So that the evil mission has been completed and so you feel that you are, somehow, at least possibly a moron.
Now I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking, "Dude, it's not a conspiracy, it's just how those things work," or maybe, "This guy needs some therapy." Well, whatever. That's just what they want you to think. The bathroom people. The ones that set this whole thing up. The hanging loopy towel machines didn't do the trick. Just implying we were stupid with that insulting warning label wasn't good enough thirty years ago. They tried to get us to hang ourselves with subtlety but we didn't fall for it, at least not all the way, so now they've brought the lasers in. I'm not sure how this plot will ultimately manifest, but the plot is underway. Laugh if you want, doubt if you must, but those of you who do will be the first to... to... well, to whatever it is that's coming next. That's all I'm saying. The rest of us must remain vigilant. We must not fall prey to the Great Bathroom Conspiracy. The future of humanity is at stake.