Its the middle of a lecture, and
you’re listening intently trying to grasp complex physics principles.  Suddenly, a twang of pain in your abdomen
makes you double up in discomfort.  You
excuse yourself from class, knowing you are now going to fail that test you
have in four days, and head off quickly to the bathroom.  Probably thinking about how you shouldn’t have
eaten those clams yesterday.

You barge in through the heavy
door, and seek a place to quietly, peacefully pass your pain.

You check the first one.  Some inconsiderate dweeb had urinated all
over the seat and forgot to flush.  No
can do.

You check the second one.  The toilet paper is strewn all over the
floor, and some mysterious mechanical mixture lies within the bowl.

The third one’s fine, except for
the fact that the entire toilet paper dispenser had been ripped off and god
knows where someone took that.

You seek salvation in the 4th
one.  It seems to be perfectly fine.  Nothing seems too out of hand, and so you go
in… and realise that the door’s locking mechanism is busted.  Great.
Off to another floor with you, with a slim hope that there are in fact
uncontaminated facilities elsewhere.

Garneau’s washrooms are not
great.  Apparently, once, someone even urinated
on the floors.  How do you think the
janitors felt about that?  Or how about
people who are actually desperately in need of using them?

How do you live with yourself after you’ve
spread bodily excretions all over a public place?  It’s not like wolves claiming territory or
anything. Because if you are, you’d be claiming a freaking washroom.  Good job.
Disgusting, thoughtless, egotistic people.