I was sound asleep when the bus rolled from Providence at about 5am and we stopped a few hours later at a truck stop. The Men’s Room at this particular rest stop was not unlike a million other public washrooms we’ve all seen a million times.  I can’t speak for the Ladies Rooms as I’ve rarely spent any time in them.  Though I confess I have a recurring habit of absentmindedly strolling into the wrong washroom and coming face to face with mothers and daughters as they exit the stalls causing all involved to jump with horror sending me running red faced back to the hall and into my appropriate gender assigned pee spot.

These Men’s Rooms all have long rows of urinals and sinks with bored and sleepy looking travelers and truckers sidled up to them doing number ones and splashing water on their faces while inspecting the bags under their eyes in the long fingerprinted mirrors.  The stalls in these places are always covered in graffiti.   I’ve never understood this phenomenon.  I understand the Urban notion of making personal, political rebellious statements on brick walls. “Van Halen Rules!!” on the side of an overpass may not increase civic beauty, but as an ardent fan I can see why someone under the right influence might grab a can of spray paint and pay homage to Ed.  But I cannot for the life of me figure out why someone would write on the wall of a bathroom stall.

Ever since University this has puzzled me.  I recall long lines of statements and responses on some philosophical or existential debate.  Who does this?  Who needs a bathroom wall as a platform for discussion?  Moreover, if you wanted the world to know that Rhonda or Betty or Charles enjoys odd sexual habits, why use the Men’s Room wall to announce it?

These are the mysteries of my life.

Grand night in Providence as Lupo’s has moved from the old K-Mart-ish building into a cool old theatre.

Lebanon looks lovely in the Fall.

Cheers

Alan