hover?

[July]

OK, I saw this on a different thread, and it got me curious. How many of you all hover in public restrooms? It can sure be a killer on the thigh muscles to hold that position! Any suggestions on using public restrooms for us germ phobics?

[kadi]

They sell small packages of seat protectors to carry in your purse. I saw them in the travel bins at Longs.

[Mrs. Burschman]

Move to California. They have toilet seat covers in all public bathrooms.

(OK, maybe I'm a bit too enamored with those tissue paper circles!)

Amy (Mrs. B)

[ICNDonna]

So does Oregon, but it's not a law here. I do carry seat covers in my purse.

People who urinate on toilet seats, then walk out --- yuck! There oughta be a law!

Donna

[July]

Yes, there should be a law, Donna!

I am starting to see the paper toilet seat covers in more public restrooms. Are you able to put them on without having to touch the seat?

You know what I find very scary? Usually travel rest stops along interstates have cleaner bathrooms than restaurant bathrooms. Yuck!

[BigFig]

I remember when I went to New England a few years ago and there were no seat covers anywhere! Coming from California, where they are everywhere, it was a shocking to me. You can, I have been able to, cover the seat with the covers without touching them, it just takes a little practice. Believe me, I am a pro at it. Sometimes I use two or three, depending on how bad the seat looks! Gross, your right Donna, there outta be a law.

Hey, if you think not having the toilet seat covers is bad, visit Germany or Italy, where most places not only don't have (what my girlfriend calls a-- gaskets) toilet seat covers, but don't even have seats to cover the bowls. Really gross!

[July]

That is what scares me about international travel!

[Mel53H]

My husband used to call toilet seat covers Tijuana t-shirts.

[hollipop]

I just wanted to share this here. Enjoy!

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of
women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn,
you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the stall. You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't
matter.

The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom,
no doubt) is handy, but empty. You would hang your purse on the door
hook, if there were one, but there isn't - so you carefully but quickly
drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put
it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume "The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake.
You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the
seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you
discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can
hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the
seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake
more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the
one that's still in your purse. That would have to do. You crumple it in
the puffiest way possible. It is still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes open your stall door because the latch doesn't work. The
door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your
chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the
toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your
footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is
wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late. Your bare bottom
has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the
uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there
was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew,
because, you're certain, her bare bottom never touched a public toilet
seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases
you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so
confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a firehose
that somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto
the toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At that
point, you give up.

You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're
exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket
and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks. You can't figure out
how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your
hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women,
still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them.

A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet
paper trailing from your shoe. ( Where was that when you NEEDED it??)
You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it the woman's hand and tell
her warmly, "Here, you just might need this."

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and
left the men's restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and
why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

. . .This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public
restroom (rest??? you've got to be kidding!!). It finally explains to
the men what really does take us so long. It also answers their other
commonly asked question about why women go to the restroom in pairs.
It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand
you Kleenex under the door.

[ICNJess]

I buy the Charmin seat covers and carry them in my purse, too. I'm such a germophobe...I always wonder how much bacteria is on my shoes after I leave a public restroom, and I absolutely forbid my hubby or anyone else to walk around in our home with their shoes on...see I'm a freak LOL.