The Blue Lagoon

           I’m not talking about where flipper spent most of his time and we're not speaking of some tropical hidden area lush with waterfalls and vines from which to swing into a picturesque wading pool below. What we're talking about today is the four by five foot petri dish that is the designated bathroom facility on metro north railroad cars.

          Imagine this, you have been swamped at work and barely had time to eat lunch. You manage to find something close to nutritious in the vending machine and supplement the rest of your meal with large glasses of water to fend off hunger pains. You walk out of your last meeting or end your last conference call and remember that you were supposed to be home for a prior engagement and have minutes to catch the train. You check the train schedule and run out of the office with your computer still on, voicemail light still blinking and about 5 glasses of water in your stomach.

          You get to Grand Central and rush onto the train and lucky you, there are a few seats unoccupied right near the bathroom. Throwing your belongings on the seat, you duck into this twenty square foot closet of stench. With the door hinges hanging by a thread, you manage to close it and reach for the lock. There is no lock on the inside of the door. The portion of the lock that used to hold the bolt that slides over is gone and only the screw holes remain. Your only option is to hold your foot against the door and lean into it to fight off any others in your same situation.

          The train departs and this uncomfortable situation went from trying to hold the door closed with your foot, to trying to hold the door with your foot, lean on it to prevent intruders, balance yourself while trying to pee and all the while managing to avoid any direct skin contact with anything within the germ chamber. As the train rocks back and forth, you hear the unsettling back and forth sloshing of the blue water below, hoping a tsunami doesn't emerge and stain your shoes blue. You'll often see the outside flooring in front of this rolling fecal factory stained as if the tidy bowl tide has just gone out and will return 12 hours later.

You finish your business and press the flush buttoning with your shoe. A roaring WHOOOOOSH sounds and you turn to wash your hands. What you find is a small airplane like sink and faucet, no soap whatsoever and a half ass hand dryer that would probably slow the train down from the amps it pulls off the overhead wires. You manage to get a few of your fingers wet under the slow trickle of the airplane faucet and rub them together as if heavy friction will kill even half of the 3 million species of germs in the confined space. You push the hand dryer and it's power is equivalent to a small troll with asthma living inside and is huffing and puffing to the point of an aneurism trying to dry the few drops of water from your hands. You shake the excess drops onto the floor and take your foot away from the door. You survived and fight your way back to your seat through the line of 4 people waiting for the same pleasant experience. You're the lucky one, you got their first. From time to time there are people that dodge the train fares by hiding in the blue lagoon. My thoughts, enjoy the free ride. Now I know why people get arrested for public urination in or around train stations!!!