If you’re sending me on a 15 hour flight, it damn well better be business class.
I’d wonder how slow this elevator was, and if I’d better take the stairs instead.
That would be a great restroom for a place with a whole lot of people expected to be in / be coming through the building. It would be extremely odd, and rather unnerving, for a place where you wouldn’t expect anywhere near enough people to need anything close to 500 stalls. I’m in favor of the shelves of free menstrual products, though.
What sort of company is it? How much money is it making? And why did I sign up for a job that might involve 15-hour plane rides in the first place?
I’ve totally avoided “the south” since a racist incident there, but boy, do I miss boiled peanuts.
I’ve kinda been to that rest room. It was a truck stop in Japan, that tons of tourist buses stopped at. As your walked in, you saw a large sign with a map of the facility, with the stalls coded depending on whether they were sit toilets, squat toilets, handicapped accessible, had changing tables, had kiddie urinals (public ladies rooms in Japan often had miniature urinals for little boys) and probably some other options. And the sign told you which stalls were in use and which were free. It wasn’t plush, and i don’t recall free menstrual supplies. But it was well lit and meticulously clean. And there were maybe 100-200 stalls.
I was in a yurt in Vermont briefly, on the grounds of a country retreat at which I was attending a wedding. It was empty at the time.
Recycling in my city has had its problems. For about a year, there was no contractor to take the collected recyclables, so the city just threw it away, not wanting people to get out of the habit of recycling. They didn’t announce that publicly, though. Not cool.
I’ll allow someone to make a courtesy turn in front of me if traffic is relatively light and I’m sure they can do it safely. Otherwise I just follow the rules of the road.
I didn’t play videogames much as a kid.
Jif Crunchy is my favorite peanut butter.
I always have a couple of books with me when flying. I only rarely watch the in-flight movie on a long trip.
I’ve never been skydiving, but I’m open to the possibility of doing it someday.
Hmm. Is the cheese different in the two countries?
Re Eschereal’s Poll: when I was in Italy/Florence a couple or so weeks ago, I was in a very nice newer restaurant just north of Il Duomo that had a single whatever-gender bathroom. It was quite large and had maybe 8 stalls and sinks and people just did what they did in privacy then washed hands. No big deal at all. Obviously no urinals but so what?
The largest city I’ve ever lived in was San Jose, California; it’s where I was born, though I only lived there for three months. At that time, its population was probably around 300,000.
The smallest towns I’ve ever lived in were two suburbs: one outside of Green Bay, and one outside of Chicago. Both of them had about 13,000 people when I lived there.
Don’t knock bathroom parfait until you’ve tried bathroom parfait.
The college I attended has a new dining hall. At my recent reunion, it was interesting to see the alumni of all different ages figuring out that the restrooms are not gender segregated.
I’ve used several gender-neutral gang restrooms. The ones in Europe have doors/stalls that don’t have gaps around the edges, so they feel more private. I have no idea why the American standard restroom stall has what my son refers to as “rendering errors”. (Because that’s what it looks like in computer games when the objects don’t render properly, and there are little gaps at the edges.)
Anyway, once you realize, “oh, there are guys washing their hands at the sink because this is a coed restroom”, it feels pretty normal.
My college’s new restroom stalls are completely enclosed.
I was born in the town that was the county seat, which currently has a population of under 2000 (it was probably a bit over 1000 when we lived there). My family moved across the state to the big city (around a third of a million) when I was 4, but we did go on vacation back there a few times, because it is a fucking beautiful area.
I don’t know how many times I knock on a door; I don’t count the knocks. But I’m pretty sure it’s less than 5, and it probably varies.
I knew off-hand how many times I strike the door to knock because I had a home-ec teacher in 7th grade who was insistent that the polite way to knock was to rap three times with the knuckles or a knocker, not so softly that it can’t be heard nor so loudly it might startle someone. If no one answers after a reasonable amount of time, you may repeat the knock up to two times. She also taught us how to set a table properly, but my mom had covered that before I was in junior high. I suppose my mom didn’t have strong opinions about knocking (or thought her kids had the common sense to be polite about it).
Six knocks:
knock knock Penny.
knock knock Penny.
knock knock Penny.
Only works if I’m at Penny’s door, however.
Are you sure? Seems to me it is 3 taps each time.
Crap, you’re right. No wonder she never answers.
Well, I have it on good authority that the correct procedure is to knock three times on the ceiling if you want me.
Twice on the pipe if the answer is no.
I went with the mailing address. We lived about two miles outside of the village, which has a population of less than six hundred people.
shave-and-a-hair-cut-two-bits.
7 knocks