Public Bathroom Chronicles

Ellie

Alright, so let’s talk about that moment. You know the one—when you walk into a public bathroom, and instantly, there’s this whole dance you gotta do. Like, which stall do I pick? What’s clean enough? And meanwhile, there’s someone else coming in behind you, so now there’s this weird pressure to make a decision, like your life depends on it.

Jack

Yeah, because obviously, one wrong step and it's social bathroom death. You’ll be judged forever by the invisible bathroom council.

Ellie

Exactly! And then you end up doing this awkward shuffle, you know, trying to act like you’re not checking every single stall for that one miraculous clean seat. And there’s always that one—you open the door, and it’s like, nope. Absolutely not. Not today.

Jack

Oh yeah, the biohazard stall. Top-notch pick for the truly desperate or overly optimistic.

Ellie

Right?! And speaking of optimism, let’s talk about hand dryers. Because I swear, those things are just glorified disease cannons. You’re standing there, innocently trying to dry your hands, and bam—germs. Right in your face.

Jack

Oh, totally. Nothing says 'welcome to hygiene' like a machine that basically just sprays bathroom air directly onto your skin. Delightful.

Ellie

Thank you! Paper towels are the superior option. I don’t care what anyone says.

Jack

Yeah, but then you’ve got the wastage argument. You’re saving the planet and simultaneously being blasted by a germy tornado. It’s a whole moral dilemma.

Ellie

Oh, don’t even start with that logic. I care about the planet, but I’d also like to not get hit with, you know, microscopic grossness.

Jack

Fair enough. Though, to be honest, I don’t even trust half the tech in these bathrooms. Like, have you ever stood there waving your hands under a soap dispenser that just—

Ellie

—refuses to acknowledge your existence? Yes! It’s like, come on, am I a ghost? Is this a cruel joke? I’m practically doing jazz hands, begging for soap.

Jack

Honestly, it’s humiliating. You think adulthood’s hard, and then bam—defeated by a machine with no moving parts. Love that for us.

Ellie

And don’t even get me started on the tap situation. It’s either automatic and splashes your entire outfit, or you have to turn it so hard, you’re basically getting a forearm workout.

Jack

Meanwhile, the person behind you is just standing there, silently judging your lack of upper body strength.

Ellie

It’s a nightmare. Public bathrooms, I swear, are like a real-life obstacle course. But instead of getting a trophy at the end, you just leave with damp hands and shattered dignity.

Jack

And possibly dysentery, depending on your luck.

Jack

Alright, so here’s the thing—after surviving the public bathroom obstacle course, there’s another level nobody talks about: bathroom etiquette. Are we exchanging polite nods? Ignoring that anyone else exists? What’s the move here?

Ellie

Oh, it’s no eye contact, absolutely no eye contact. You don’t exist to me, I don’t exist to you. We’re just two ships passing in... well, the smell of hand soap and questionable decisions.

Jack

Right, because what if you accidentally acknowledge someone? Does it, like, unlock some hidden toilet-level friendship? I can’t take that risk.

Ellie

Exactly! And then you'll get stuck doing the awkward communal hand-washing thing, where, for some reason, you’re side-eyeing each other like you’re about to have a standoff. It’s like a spaghetti Western but with soap foam.

Jack

Ugh, yeah. Or when someone starts humming while they’re washing their hands. Is it confidence? Audition practice? An attack? We may never know.

Ellie

Oh my God, the hand-washing serenaders! They’re always the ones who turn it into a full performance—extra suds, a dramatic water flick at the end. Meanwhile, I’m over here just trying not to splash soap in my eye.

Jack

It’s a niche form of dominance, I suppose. "Look at me, I’m washing my hands better than you."

Ellie

Honestly, they should give out awards for that. Oh, except—you ready for a story?—so, there I was, completely busting for the bathroom after this insane night out. The nearest option? A “For Employees Only” sign that practically mocked me as I walked by.

Jack

Oh no. You didn’t.

Ellie

Oh, I did. I went full stealth mode. Hood up, head low, like I was on a heist. I slipped in, all sneaky—and bam. The janitor’s in there, mid-clean. I froze. We made eye contact, and I just—I panicked. I blurted out, "Sorry, wrong door!" like, yeah, I accidentally wandered into the staff-only bathroom with laser focus and a desperate bladder.

Jack

Brilliant. Smooth. Clearly, you are a master of subtlety.

Ellie

Wait, it gets worse. So I leg it out of there thinking, “Abort mission, find somewhere else.” And the only thing open nearby? A gas station. I buy a pack of gum I don’t even want, just so I don’t look like a weirdo who’s using their bathroom without buying anything.

Jack

Classic. But let me guess, even after all that, the actual bathroom was, like, aggressively worse than just waiting till you got home?

Ellie

Oh, way worse. The soap smelled like industrial cleaner, the toilet seat was broken, and the hand dryer? It didn’t even work, Jack. Not even a puff of air!

Jack

Beautiful. And now you’ve got the gum as a trophy of your public bathroom misadventure.

Ellie

Never again. I’m traumatized. Gas station bathrooms are officially my nemesis.

Ellie

After reliving that gas station bathroom horror show, it got me thinking—why are bathrooms, of all places, the settings for humanity’s most overcomplicated rituals? Like, they should be the simplest places: go in, do your thing, leave. But no, now it’s this whole saga.

Jack

Right? It’s like public bathrooms turned into this weird experiment to see how much awkwardness one person can physically endure. And—don’t even get me started on the hand dryers.

Ellie

Oh, I knew you were gonna say that!

Jack

I mean, think about it. What if hand dryers were just... part of some big conspiracy? Like, what if they’re actually spreading germs on purpose? Microbial sabotage under the guise of eco-friendliness.

Ellie

Oh come on, you think Big Hygiene is out to get us now?

Jack

I’m just saying, Ellie, with the amount of “innovative” tech in these bathrooms, I wouldn’t rule it out. Automatic taps that work like, 40% of the time. Sensors that flush when you don’t even move. Meanwhile, the soap dispensers are there laughing at your helpless jazz hands.

Ellie

It's all a big joke, isn’t it? A sick, soapy joke! And then there’s the people who use those hand dryers like it’s some kind of art form. You know, twisting their hands in the air like they’re conducting the world’s lamest orchestra.

Jack

Oh yeah, the interpretive hand-drying crowd. Very avant-garde.

Ellie

Meanwhile, I’m that person standing there, wiping my hands on my jeans because I straight-up don’t trust the dryer. I mean, it’s not like I’m leaving there any cleaner than I was when I walked in, right?

Jack

Exactly. You go in hopeful and come out with at least one regret. Like, was it really worth touching the door handle on the way out? Or the toilet flush—

Ellie

Oh stop, please! Now I’m gonna start thinking about every door handle I’ve ever touched. Ever!

Jack

You’re welcome. And don’t forget—there’s always that one person who thinks they’re sneaky, skipping the whole hand-washing step altogether. The audacity!

Ellie

Oh my God, yes! Like, we all saw you! You just went straight from flush to exit, no pit stop.

Jack

And now they’re out there, touching stuff. Shaking hands. Spreading chaos.

Ellie

It’s horrifying. Honestly, Jack, public bathrooms are a microcosm of humanity at its weirdest. You’ve got anxiety, questionable decisions, and bizarre conspiracy theories all playing out within a tiled room.

Jack

And if that doesn’t sum up life in general, I don’t know what does. So what’s the takeaway here? Avoid public bathrooms entirely? Build up your forearm strength for stubborn taps?

Ellie

Maybe. Or just... don’t overthink it. It’s a bathroom. Go in, hope for the best, and then get out while you still have your dignity—or what’s left of it.

Jack

Wise words. And on that note, I think we’ve officially overanalyzed bathrooms enough for one lifetime.

Ellie

Agreed. And for anyone listening—if you’re currently in a public bathroom while playing this episode—

Jack

—Good luck. May the soap dispenser acknowledge you.

Ellie

And on that note, we’ll catch you guys next time. Stay hygienic, everyone!