My (toilet) brush with greatness

Posted on January 23, 2004 @ 5:58 pm

A couple of years back, I was invited to speak at a policy forum hosted by a prominent former U.S. Senator who, for reasons that will become apparent in a few moments, shall remain nameless. After the senator delivered his opening remarks, there was a short break in the proceedings before the next speaker took the stage. Taking advantage of the recess, I excused myself to the lobby for a quick trip to the restroom.

So, there I was, standing at the urinal, when who else but the senator himself sidled up to the urinal right beside me — already a serious breach in male restroom protocol considering other urinals were available, mind you. That was only the beginning of my discomfort, however. As we both stood there relieving ourselves, the senator did the unthinkable; he decided to strike up a urinal conversation with me.

Now, my wife assures me that women speak to one another in the restroom all the time and in fact are known to carry on full-fledged conversations in the lavatory, but that’s not the case with guys. We just don’t do it. Ever. You go in, do your business, and get out. Apparently, nobody told my new-found friend the senator that.

“So, are you here for the policy forum?” he asked cheerfully.

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, staring straight ahead at the wall and avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Excellent! It’s splendid to see young people like yourself actively engaging important issues like these. Are you a graduate student by chance?”

“Um, yep,” I responded. By this point, my body had completely given up on the prospect of completing the task for which I had come to the restroom in the first place. Instead, it had shifted into full-on fight-or-flight mode and was focused solely on extracting itself from the situation in the least awkward way possible. Game over, man. I’d just have to wait a day or two until I was comfortable going to the bathroom again.

So, I zipped up and prepared to leave the restroom. Unfortunately, I timed my departure poorly, and the senator finished at the same time — and was clearly intent on continuing our conversation. First, however, he had to introduce himself.

“My name is Senator So-and-So. Where do you go to school, son?” he asked, extending his hand to me.

That’s right — he wanted to shake hands with me. Right after he finished going to the bathroom. Without a trip to the restroom sink in between.

What was I supposed to do? Leave the man hanging? That hardly seemed patriotic. Should I have said something like, “Nice to meet you, Senator. Let’s just get washed up and we can continue this conversation in the lobby.” That didn’t seem quite right either. Honestly, there was only one thing that I could do.

I shook the man’s hand.

You’d think that a politician who had spent his entire career shaking hands with people would have known better than to commit such a social and hygienic faux pas. Thankfully, the honorarium I earned for my participation in the forum almost made up for any psychological and/or urological trauma I suffered at the unwashed hands of the senator. Almost.

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