Washington, DC and Restrooms
I currently find myself in downtown Washington, DC, only a few blocks from the White House. I’ve never been a fan of cities larger than Columbus, OH, so it’s only natural I’d not feel entirely at home here in our nation’s capitol. On the other hand, I have to say that certain things have taken me by surprise.
During the daytime, the sidewalks are busy with office workers, tourists, and others. For the most part, it’s like being downtown in any large city.
At night, however, it’s much like J. Michael Straczynski discusses in his Midnight Nation graphic novels. There is a whole other group of people walking the streets after dark. Panhandlers, ladies of the evening (or at least ladies who dress similarly), and other sunsavory types. The streets you wouldn’t think twice about walking down at noon take on a very sinister quality after dark.
But, to a certain extent, I expect that. It’s one reason I tend to stay in the hotel after dark. Something I didn’t expect to encounter (in our nation’s capitol or anywhere) is a rather strange paranoia about people using restrooms. Back in Columbus, I could walk into any restaurant or other business and (if necessary) go directly to the restroom. No one would so much as bat an eye. In DC, though, restrooms are locked up and restricted.
I think perhaps our nation’s leaders are clandestinely working out some kind of a plan to tax us for bowel movements or bladder activity, and that they’re carrying out the research here in DC first. For example, I was just visiting a Border’s Book Store downtown. I needed to heed the call of nature, so I located a restroom. I found out that I couldn’t go inside unless I stopped at an information desk and got a token. Excuse me? I need to ask your permission to empty my bladder? Please. I was offended enough by the behavior that I stopped shopping there and headed for my hotel.
But Borders isn’t the only place with this strange paranoia. I’m here in DC to take a class. The building the classroom is in has its restrooms locked. Much like visiting a gas station, you have to get a key at the receptionist’s desk before you can relieve yourself. What the heck? Is there some sort of toilet paper syndicate operating in our nation’s capitol that’s grabbing up the TP from public restrooms? Are there roving gangs running around attacking defenseless restroom stalls? Are hobos trying to set up homes in there?
Beats me, but it’s damned peculiar.