Wednesday, August 30
A woman friend of mine asked if I could do an article on the sorry state of women's public rest rooms in and about the area. I said that I would think about it, but never having seen the inside of a women's rest room, and having no inclination to do so, it would be very difficult for me to write about something that I know so little of.

I do know, however, that anyone who has ever traveled any distance from home, if only to the mall, will at some time or other have to avail themselves of public rest rooms. I can truthfully say that most area men's rooms that I have frequented have never made me feel especially unnerved, though they might not grace the pages of "Good Housekeeping" magazine.

The most grievous fault I find about public restrooms is the fact that they are sorely neglected when it comes to the act of replacing paper towels, toilet tissues, or soap and I definitely don't care for the use of electric hand dryers. They never get my hands completely dry, and I walk away with damp, clammy-feeling hands, hoping I don't meet a friend who wants to shake them.

Speaking of rest room accommodations, a few years ago I had the opportunity to visit the country music extravaganza at Branson, Mo., and while looking in on "Mickey Gilleys" establishment I had the need to visit the men's room. To put it mildly, I was completely amazed by the sheer size and elegance of what I assumed would be just another

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comfort area, but besides the usual line of urinals and booths that adorn most men's rooms, the lavatories and surrounding areas were encased in what I can only describe as beautiful polished jade and the entire expanse was scrupulously clean.

Off to one side and out of view of the toilet facilities stood a fun-sized pool table for those who wished to play. Also there were lounge chairs for those who just wished to sit and rest while waiting for the nightly country music show.

When I was growing up on the farm, we didn't have the luxury of indoor plumbing and we would have to avail ourselves of the outhouse when nature called; an unpleasant experience in the summer and a formidable chore in freezing winter weather. As kids it was a great Halloween stunt for us to knock over neighboring outhouses. Luckily we never hit one that was occupied. Believe me, it was a great day when we finally got indoor fixtures and didn't have to take that long tortuous trek to the outhouse, especially in the dead of winter and the dark of night.

By far the worst rest rooms I have ever encountered have been those along the interstate highways. I realize that they get a lot of traffic and most travelers aren't too particular about how they leave things, knowing that they will probably never pass that way again. But to me, the condition of the restrooms is a reflection on the entire state that I happen to be passing through and I will leave with either a good or bad impression of that state depending on the condition of the state operated rest rooms.

    Joe Bushika lives and writes in Stamford. His column appears every other Wednesday.