School bathrooms. Few venues have the unique ability to host both some of the most dramatic moments of our high school career, as well as the most primal processes of the human body. For some, the two of these are one in the same. 

This week I will be exploring some of those moments courtesy of the students who lived them. 

Contrary to popular belief, the girls’ restrooms are gross. They are not perfume scented chatty lounges with sparkling water and throw pillows, they are bathrooms, just as gross as any bathroom. The following should convince you: 

Senior Lily Peterson shared that she once walked in on two girls cleaning goose droppings off of their shoes using the toilets. Yes, the toilets. Surely the sink would have been a better option, with its own faucet and most importantly, water that is not toilet water. 

Libby Jaskwhich says that on one afternoon, she entered a stall only to discover that the toilet was already occupied. Not by a person, but rather by two granola bar wrappers and a student ID floating in the bowl. “I mean I don’t know whose bars they were, they weren’t mine though” she said. “Oh wait did you mean whose IDs?”

In the boys restrooms, I’ve heard of similar instances of ID abuse. One anonymous boy shared that male students will sometimes stick their temporary IDs to the urinal bowls and they often remain there, no one wanting to remove them after the inevitable desecration caused by their unfortunate location. 

Not all stories I received were of the distasteful type, however. Several students also shared their nostalgia from past bathroom moments such as instances of Magnet alumni Ashley Bryann playing music in the bathrooms, either from her phone, or on occasion, via Chromebook. I myself was witness to this a few times. One morning, I even had the honor of happening in upon “My Girl” by the Temptations accompanied by the vocals of Ashley herself. And to think, I didn’t think the Temps could get any better. 

On the subject of past beacons of AMHS, senior Caroline Hyde shared her experience with a particular fallen legend. One day during Mr. Corson’s class, Caroline found herself in need of some bladder relief. After conducting her business, she found that she had become locked in the stall. Being a self described “sanitary freak” she refused to crawl under the stall. To add to her imprisonment, being a subscriber of the Sprint cellular network, Caroline had no service and was unable to call for reinforcements until someone else walked in and freed her. As she arrived back into Honors Computer Science, Mr. Corson could not refrain from adding insult to injury, and loudly asked her if she had irritable bowel syndrome. 

Whereas most might expect to be unable to enter a bathroom stall (due to broken locks, see my last article), being unable to exit is also somewhat common. Or at least I hope it’s common. That would make my next story much less shameful. I myself have been locked in—not a stall—but the bathroom itself. The women’s bathroom closest to Mr. Grimshaw’s room, to be specific. Near the end of last year, I entered this restroom not thinking anything of it; this bathroom had become my default choice for classes in the proximity. There’s something in its cozy size and panoramic mirrors that I can most closely describe as hotelish. Not quite a fancy hotel, but one with better accommodations than, lets say, an averagely funded public school. So after washing my hands I made my way to the door and reached for the handle. The handle, however, was missing. Freshly missing, I might add. The morning prior, it was in its rightful place, and most importantly, still attached to the door. This particular day, however, the handle was instead on the floor near the trash can, and appeared to have conveniently snapped off. With an arm still extended from reaching for the ghost of the handle, I froze and stared at the door. The door stared back, taunting me, no doubt. I’ve never seen a door so smug. And much like Caroline, my next step was to wait to be freed, as the door opens inwards and (I thought) would therefore be unable to open without a handle to pull it open. As it turns out, if you pull the lock latch, you can get enough leverage to open it, but for some reason, neglected to investigate further, instead accepting my defeat.  

The bathrooms are not a place to be afraid of, however, they can be fun in many ways. For example, the photo opportunities are virtually endless. Just ask senior, Robby Gourdie, who some would say is a connoisseur of restroom action shots. Inspired by his work, Godwins Tuyishime, decided to attempt this feat of modern art himself, only to pull his achilles. Not all of us can be that powerful, I suppose. If you are a bathroom evangelist like myself, you might even go so far as to say that the bathrooms decide, ruthlessly handing out injuries to those it deems unworthy.

Excuse the hasty transition, dear reader, but I am here to inform you of some BREAKING NEWS as of Friday the 27th of September: The sink has once again, done broke. Some of you may remember last year a certain dysfunctional sink in the women’s bathroom which seemed to be turned on indefinitely, dispensing water for several hours, if not days. As of today, the right-most sink of the women’s room has begun to mimic this phenomenon, having been on already for several hours. I first discovered it at about 12:20, shortly before lunch, however, a fellow bathroom patron Hannah Hughes reported that she had seen it going strong about an hour before that too. While the causes of this malfunction remain unknown, one thing is clear: that sink will not let up. No method of toggling or ghetto-rigging has yet to proven successful. Updates will follow. 

Lastly, I would like to include that a student reached out to me in search of an item that they parted with in the restrooms on this year’s Raptor Day. After having lent it to another student that she didn’t know, junior Julia Camp would never see her beloved AMHS sweatshirt again. Julia told the girl (who she only remembers had black boots that have sparkles on the toe part) that she could give the sweatshirt to her at the football game and said she was a part of the Dirty Birds, to give it to any one of them. Unfortunately, she never received her sweatshirt. If you or someone you know may have this sweatshirt, please bring it to Ms. Hurt’s room at any time of the day, with no consequence. We understand this was probably an honest mistake; Julia just wants her sweatshirt back. She received lots of compliments on it, and further, it was her older brother’s before he left for college. Help us return this garment to its owner in the name of Raptor spirit. 

That’s all for this week, but join me another time as I discuss the disturbing state of the hand dryers, whose “drying” capability can be equated to the lukewarm sneeze of a child.