The Mens Room

The other day I was in the laundry room filling water bottles and got chatting with a lady who was there doing her laundry.

She said, “This morning there was a bad smell in the ladies washroom – smelled like sewer pipes. Is there a bad smell in the men’s restroom”?

Hahaha – oh me, oh my! My dear – there is always a bad smell in the men’s room – and it almost always smells like sewer! Hahaha.

Unless you plan to live aboard a monster yacht, one of the compromises that you will have to endure is public washrooms and showers. For the other half (who use the ladies room), I will give a little picture of the mens side of the action.

The mensroom is an interesting blend of private business in a public place. As the percentage of men to women at this marina is about 2 to 1 there always seems to be someone doing something in the mens. I can’t think of any other place where you could go to the washroom at 2:00am and end up chatting for half an hour with three other guys there for the same reason as you. And politics! Don’t get talking about politics or you’ll be there for hours. Voices will chime in from behind every closed door offering everything from opinions to expletives. World problems could be solved if people would just listen to the solutions presented there.

The showers are also a unique place. Our shower is an open room with four shower heads. At any given time you can have four men showering, chatting away while studiously scrubbing various parts and pieces. All this goes on while consciously concentrating on keeping any open eyes up above the neck of your shower partners. Come to think of it, there is a lot of eye contact in the mens room.

Men for the most part tend to be somewhat proud of the various events that occur in the stalls. Sometimes after a particularly spectacular occurrence you might hear a chuckle from a couple of stalls down. Some times you might even get cheered on. “Good one, man”! Men are such children.

And finally there is one old guy at this marina who always makes a scene of trying to find William. You can often hear him pull up to a stall, then talk to himself as he digs around, “Alright buddy, where are you? Come on out. ….. Ah, there you are – gotcha now!”

And yes, there is always a bad smell in the mens room – something like sewer pipes.

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