Gov. Paul LePage’s decision to plunge Maine into the great bathroom war was not a big surprise, as his often colorful rhetoric suggests a strong interest in what occurs in that venue. While I would have preferred that Maine sit this one out, now that we are a player, I would urge the governor to take the lead in shifting the debate to the real problem.

To date, the fight has been over who gets to decide, in a world of gender-differentiated bathrooms, which toilet an individual may use. What we should be addressing is a problem that affects both genders, whether gender is determined by biological apparatus at birth or self-identification, which is the widespread user unfriendliness of public bathrooms.

During my lifetime, automation, especially the use of sensors, has been the major development in bathroom technology, but one that has failed miserably. I can’t be the only person who, hoping no one is watching, has rubbed his hands together under a faucet refusing to produce any water, reminiscent of the scene in “Blowup” in which the characters play tennis without a ball. If water does start flowing, one must decide whether to pivot to the soap dispenser, knowing that will require coaxing water from the faucet a second time, or be content with a water-only wash.

If sensor failures are a minor inconvenience in sinks, they produce far more unpleasant results in toilets. A sure sign of trouble is when the toilet flushes the moment one sits down, as that can mean it will not do so again at a more critical juncture. While most toilets do have a manual flushing mechanism, that is apparently not widely known, judging from the frequency with which one encounters unusable facilities.

What should be the simple act of securing a paper towel can require the precise placement of one’s hands in front of a temperamental sensor that instructs the machine to dispense the towel. Even when successful, the reward is often only enough paper to dry the hands of someone missing several fingers.

But it would be unfair to blame all the problems on automation. Who has not tried to tease a paper towel from a dispenser when only a frustratingly small piece has emerged just far enough to pinch between one’s thumb and forefinger?

And there is a difficult decision to be made, generally when one’s plane is about to board, if the only available stall has a broken latch. Can one reach far enough to hold the door closed in the event another potential user fails to recognize it is in use?

Speaking of stall doors, it would not seem very challenging to equip them with an “occupied” sign when the latch is closed, thereby eliminating the need for waiting patrons to try to discreetly peak under the door for feet on the other side.

As for restaurants, I am at a loss as to why they often have two identical bathrooms, one for the exclusive use of women and the other only for men. If two patrons of the same gender have a call of nature at the same time, it makes no sense that one must lurk outside the occupied facility (returning to one’s table might mean losing one’s place in line) while a perfectly good bathroom goes unused. Perhaps restaurant owners have an outdated chivalric notion that women should not use toilets used by men.

For me, there can also be a moment of anxiety as I try to ascertain the gender of the stick figure on the door of the bathroom I am about to enter. Even words can cause doubt, as was the case with a seafood restaurant in a coastal Louisiana city, where I had to decide between bathrooms with signs reading “Inboard” and “Outboard.” Visualization saved the day.

Finally, it is impossible not to feel guilt as a hopefully sensitive male when, during intermission at a play, one passes a long line for the ladies’ room on the way to a virtually unoccupied men’s room. By now, theater designers should recognize that anatomical differences justify bathrooms of different sizes.

With the long closed door to bathroom issues having been opened, the time has come for a Bathroom Users Bill of Rights. With its focus on tourism, it would be appropriate for Maine to initiate such an undertaking, and while I am certain others have views on this matter, it is my modest hope that the foregoing observations give our leaders a head start.

Steve Diamond, a retiree living in Gardiner, is conducting a one-person campaign to lighten the mood in an unusually depressing election year.

Copy the Story Link