What's Your Carbon Crap-print?

The other afternoon, I had just finished lunching with a friend on Main St. in Santa Monica. I had a mixed meat panini and a diet root beer of some kind. Ostensabily, both easily digestable. Wrapping up lunch, I walked down the street to the Starbucks to do some writing (the one on the corner of Main and Hill). Feeling strong, I ordered a full on cafe mocha with real milk and set up shop. No sooner had I guzzed down the last drop then my stomach began to gurgle. Ironically, my ancient semetic genes are equipped to survive in the desert for 40 days and 40 nights, but unable to handle a mild dose of caffeine and sugar.

I was code red.

I quickly threw my laptop in my bag and hustled over to the bathroom. A frequent guest of this SBUX, I knew what to expect: a single stall, ample toilet paper, and the requisite piss puddled floor. No big deal. I could handle it. What I wasn't prepared for was the Mommy and Me line comprised of no less than two Yoga Moms and their four little girls. I was screwed. There was no way my stomach could hold out this long.

My car, luckily, was only a few blocks away, and my house, gratefully, was less than two miles. I could hold out. I must. Racing home, I tried to preoccupy my mind with the thought of how many others there must be like me right now. Those fellow intrepid shitters, yearning for the toilets of their homecourt, pushing their car to borderline illegal speeds and maneuvers. And then it hit me-- How much gas was being wasted daily by people who drive home to shit? With the lethal combination of burrito joints and clogged highways in L.A., the numbers here alone must be staggering. And at what cost to the environment? Due to poor and overly crowded restroom facilities, what begins as an innocuous, carbon free gas in our ass can quickly turn into a gasoline based pollutant. This is a job for Al Gore. I am calling him now.

The Magic Crapdom or The Not So Happiest Place On Earth

Mark F., a Crapspotting correspondent, sends in this field report:


The other morning, my wife and I decided to surprise our three boys with a school day trip to Disney. Keeping up the ruse as long as possible, we treated this morning like any other so as to not arouse suspicion. My normal school day pattern is to to drop them off at school then do my own “Drop Off” either back at home or at work. On this day, however, there would be no return trip home so I decided to let my bowels work their magic at The Kingdom.

Parking in the main structure throws you out to the tram area where you are then transported to downtown Disney. We entered California Adventure Park where my kids immediately needed to use the urinals. The facilities in the entry area of this park are very useable, clean and relatively new. Knowing that Disneyland prides itself on the cleanest public and private areas, I assumed the facilities in the park would be as good if not better than these outposts and I pressed my luck.

This was a mistake.

I believe Walt would roll over in his bed of dry ice if he could see the current state of facilities As we moved from the Gold Rush ride over to Mr. Toads Wild Ride the long delayed cappuccino finally took effect and I bolted for the nearest john. What I ran into was not pleasant! Toilets that were un-flushed; toilet paper stuck to the seats and rims of the bowls; urine on the seats…etc It was so bad that I was faced with the question of trying to pop out a quickie in this disgusting venue or hold it in for home, which was still 75-90 minutes away.

As I'm sure you can appreciate, I chose to hold it, a choice that really threw my cycle out of whack. I pride myself on being both regular and consistent and this late afternoon disaster upset the balance of my entire weekend.

My recommendation for future travelers is to either take care of things at home or find an area in either park that is newly designed. I feel that the Disney team tends to keep those areas up to better standards.