Think of your first-ever day at school, surrounded by your trembling new peers, lunchbox in hand and deer-in-headlights look plastered on your face. As you make your way to your first-ever cubby, you slowly but surely feel yourself prairie-dogging.
That is when you realize that the bathroom you’re about to use is communal. You cannot free yourself in the privacy of the cozy bathroom you’ve grown up in and with whom you’ve developed a tight bond. The barks of your dogs will be heard, from one stall to another. So ensues one of the first major adversities you face in your young life: how do you mute your poop?
I must admit that I’ve been searching for the answer for more than a year now, and I’ve taken note during my own trips to the loo ever since.
The level of embarrassment reflects the nature of the poop. When dropping harmonious solids, some (depending on mood) take pride in the exemplary health of their colon. However, after a tasty cold brew to boost your manics before a 9 a.m. class, a majority of the world can expect nothing less than maximum embarrassment in regards to the infamous “líquido”—the Spanish word for “liquid.” (Sometimes facing realities in a different language cushions the blow.)
One tactic that never ceases to fail is one I call “Blend With Neighboring Flush.” This can be executed in two ways: the practical way, or the hard way. I’m partial to the hard way, but we’ll review both approaches.
Here at The New School, we are blessed with the luxury and privilege of a useful little button on the right hand side (seated) of the pot, which we press to flush our deposit. Say it’s roughly 9 a.m. in the second-floor bathroom of the University Center, rush hour. One (maybe two, three?) cracked-out cold brews have been ingested by 50 percent of the student body at the very least and because time is of the essence, each stall is occupied. Though you may be comfortable with yourself and your poops, 9 a.m. is simply far too early for such harsh realities to be faced in the presence of peers.
The practical approach is as follows. When depositing, rather than a quick push of the button, hold the button down. This tactic by no means saves water, but alas, sacrifices sometimes must be made for poop-shyness. The pot will continue to flush as you hold the button down, conveniently blending the vocals of your deposit with the instrumentals of the flush.
The hard way to “Blend With The Neighboring Flush” requires your intuition to be sharper than average, and you may need a disposable 5 minutes when traffic is low. Assuming that it’s high, patiently await the flush of your trusty neighbor. When this occurs, deposit at maximum speed and parallel your vocals with the neighboring instrumentals. For some, this may require a few measly sit-ups prior to act but we’re all pretty athletic so that won’t be a problem.
For those of you who don’t have access to the right-hand button and committed to reading this piece in hopes of an answer being provided in regards to the communal loos you loyally visit in your own lives, I commend your optimism. Alas, I will be providing wisdom and compassion instead.
The truth is that it is completely impossible to silence a beautifully natural bodily function from singing its symphony. You must ever so deeply tap into yourself, strap on your most noise cancelling headphones and brave the storm that is coffee’s second miracle.
I recommend “Papa’s Got A Brand New Bag” by James Brown, “Morning Has Broken” by Cat Stevens, or “Jammy” by $ap Murphy (a talented pal of mine). Pleasure doing business.
Illustration by Alex Gilbeaux.
