A moral lesson from the can

WARNING: This post contains material of an awkward subject. I would encourage you not to form visual images of me. But since I just said that, I know you will. So enjoy that.

Most public men's rooms have a particular stall layout - one or several skinny, minimum space stalls whose doors open inward, and then one larger wheelchair-accessible (W.A.) stall whose door opens outward. Generally, the W.A. stall is furthest from the door, tucked in a corner. Dudes can be weird about using stalls. Some prefer space and comfort in order to properly relax while some prefer a sort of quiet anonymity, dreading that some other man may be aware that they, too, endure working bodily functions. The W.A. stall can satisfy both preferences, at times.

I was guilty of using the roomier, corner-located W.A. stall at work sometimes, for whatever reason. Regardless, it struck me recently that it would be rude and potentially disastrous if I was occupying said stall at a time when someone who truly needed the clearance and support rail entered the bathroom. This seemingly obvious scenario made its rude entry into my mind while I was using the stand up potty, and a gentleman in our office came in with a walker and two braces on his feet. I knew this man from around the office, but was not aware of his situation on a personal level. Needless to say, I swore a silent oath that I would never use the handicapped stall on this floor, in this building, ever again. It is not for me.

The story doesn't end there. Like I said, I didn't know the man on a personal level. He was gone from the office for quite some time, but I didn't notice. One day, I was playing the bowling video game on my phone (that's what I do when I'm toilet bound), and I hear the men's room door open. Normally, that is followed by footsteps and the familiar sounds of relief, flushing, washing, the auto-towel motor, and annoying small talk about how weird the last employee meeting was. This time, there were no footsteps... but I did see a wheelchair's wheel roll by under the door of my narrow stall. Later that day, I see the man in the wheelchair, and it was that man who previously had two braces on his feet. Now he only had one brace on his feet, primarily because he only had one remaining foot! I find out that the infections that were causing his foot pain and problems had gotten so bad, that amputation was the only remedy.

Thank goodness for the startling epiphany I experienced weeks earlier. Imagine the discourtesy I would have done by occupying the one and only wheelchair accessible stall, that very day, in that very place, denying a man who recently lost his foot the access he needed! Before you judge my description and discussion of the man's unfortunate situation, realize that he had the grace and humor with his new found structure to show up for a pirate-themed employee meeting (see what I mean?) wearing an upside down plunger that was painted black and duct-taped to his knee as a peg leg! AWESOME.

The lesson here is that certain things are in place for a reason. People who need a little extra room, a little closer space, a lift, a support bar, whatever - they really need it! And some of us have strange, selfish agendas (like video bowling with more elbow room) that need to be sacrificed for the good of mankind. Bottom line: Don't park in their spaces, and don't s#!t in their stalls.

It says 'sit'- my keyboard had a malfunction...