They’re everywhere. Everywhere.
In your home. At the park. On the street corner. In your favourite restaurant, and at your workplace. By the side of the road as it travels over mountain, under valley, through forest, across the barren desert and along the seashore. They are also in every city, every town and every village. Mostly they’re quietly acknowledged and gratefully utilized. On those quiet stretches of freeway between the noisy peopled places, you’ll see billboards glorifying them:
Ours are newer, fresher than theirs!
Ours has high technology!
Ours are cleaner!
Yes, I am talking about the humble restroom. The exhibit this fey attraction to me: I can be anywhere in the world, any city, any county and when I enter a restroom I step out of that place and into…a restroom. Sixteen feet by twenty. White antiseptic tiles. Some graffiti. Overflowing bin. Leaky taps. Piped music complementing the whirr of fan vents. A uniform experience no matter your corner of the world.
I do my business, wash my hands (marveling at how soft the soap leaves my skin feeling!) and step out of the restroom, walk through the service station and back out into the harsh Mojave morning.