There ought to be a law

While I’m on the topic of I CAN’T BREATHE, let’s discuss public restrooms.

A frequent visitor to public restrooms,  I’ve got to be grateful for their existence. If you’ve ever been pregnant, suffer from IBS, or have a child over the age of three, you know what I mean.

But there is no greater assault on the olifactory system than entering a stall in the ladies restroom of the airport, shopping mall, or worse yet, I-95 rest stop. Bad enough are the body smells. Stinky old lady parts. The toxic aftermath of fast food. Urine that made it onto the floor instead of into the bowl.

But as if the natural odors weren’t offensive enough, we’re assaulted by a mystical concoction of bleach-Comet-air freshener-ammonia-potpourri. A mere coverup, the cleansers don’t really make the stink disappear; rather they overlap to create a revolting hybrid aroma.

Do you know the real intent behind using these products? To convince you the public restroom is a clean place to make a poop or a pee. WAKE UP. Public restrooms are germ fests. Bleach and ammonia, if properly used, might eliminate some remnant feces off the floor and counters, but actually cause more harm than good. And those deodorizers on a timer, periodically spritzing “lilac breeze” or “juniper melon?” They’re really only masking the odors; they’re not cleaning a thing.

TIPS: Hold it ’til you get home. Natural hand sanitizer.  Write a letter to the EPA demanding reform, like this one.