(Spencer J Eggers/The Daily Campus)
Between the onslaught of demanding classes, your oh-so-contemptible part-time job at the Olive Garden (you know, the one where your boss makes you come in extra early on Sunday), and your psychopathic roommate who — in spite of your repeated pleas to Resident Life and Student Housing — will not be moving out at the end of the semester, finding a moment to sit in silence and ponder the meaning of life can be difficult for a college student.
However, there is one place where peace and quiet are essential, and soul-searching meditation is not only possible, it’s tantamount to the entire bathroom experience. Indeed, atop that porcelain throne, we have the divine opportunity to contemplate our futures or browse Perez Hilton on our iPhones — whichever comes first.
To a troubled college student, bathroom time is sacred, and to infringe upon those precious moments of tranquility is equivalent to restroom blasphemy. Among the most cardinal of lavatory sins: talking on your cell phone while on the toilet.
The reasons why those of us on the receiving end of your toilet talkfest would be disturbed are clear. After a grueling day of business classes and the biology test from hell, we have no desire to listen to you grieve over your missing Prada pumps, and the fact that you’ve searched all over your apartment for them means nothing to me. Furthermore, we really can’t imagine a worse time to prattle on about which fraternity your best friend should join next semester. We’ll see your “Fiji” and raise you a “Shut up we’re trying to concentrate.” Because, really, do the people you’re talking to know what you’re doing, or do you just tell them you’ve gone spelunking in the Ozarks and, “the intermittent splashes you’re hearing? Oh, just ignore them.”
We all understand that your time is precious, and multi-tasking truly is the way of the future. Who hasn’t shot off an email from their cell phone mid-bowel movement? Nevertheless, some things require your full, undivided, attention. On at least two occasions, one of us has walked into the men’s restroom to find a fellow patron standing in front of a urinal, conducting his business hands-free, texting as if his life depended on it. (For those born without a male appendage who don’t know, urinating without a proper grip is like letting go of a garden hose — you’re liable to make a mess.)
Is it really so important that you text your friend back before you’ve had the chance to zip up? And could that sorority gossip not wait until after you’ve finished using the toilet paper you just unrolled? If you feel no remorse for the lavatorial denizens listening in the stall next to yours or the unsuspecting dupe on the other end of the line, the least you can do is show some self-respect and catch up with your mother when you’re not sitting on a human waste collector. You’re infringing on my quiet time, and, what’s more, it’s just awkward. After all, you’re better than that, aren’t you?
