The Sound of a Flush

My junior year in college, I gave an informational speech in one of my communication classes which I cheekily titled “The Sound of a Flush.” Decades later, here I am reusing that title. What’s old is new again! My topic is slightly different this time, however.

During my college years (yes, that was last century, insert old-timer joke here), there was no such thing as a self-flushing toilet. (There were at least actual water closets; we weren’t using outhouses on campus.) In such dark times, we humans learned as part of potty training that the final step before leaving the porcelain throne was to flush. Nothing to it, really, just press down the little handle and voila! All evidence of your visit disappears down the sewer. What an invention! And in fact, that was the topic of my college speech–the history of the indoor toilet and how much higher our quality of life is with such devices. (Note, these were the days before the internet, so I had to use actual books in an actual library and do actual research to confirm that, whatever you may have heard, Thomas Crapper did NOT invent the toilet. Although he did improve it.)

But today, I’m writing about how much MORE often we hear the sound of a flush thanks to stools that flush automatically. Often many times in a row, even if the user hasn’t moved. When my children were young, I finally figured out that putting a sticky note over the inaptly named motion sensors in public bathrooms would stop the flushing long enough for them to do their business. Recently I heard a child wailing about the repeated gushing in a public bathroom, his mother saying “I’m sorry, honey, I can’t make it stop.” I may start carrying sticky notes to toss over the top of the stall in such situations.

My real question is: who decided that the human race was no longer able to do our own flushing? Are there really that many people who left public restrooms without completing the final step? And what do they do in their own homes? I know people who don’t like to touch the handle, but there are various solutions for that phobia–use a bit of toilet paper to keep your hands (supposedly) germ-free, for instance, or depress the handle with your foot (although the balance required for the latter move may require touching other parts of the equipment anyway). The old stand-by, of course, is to wash your hands after flushing, which you should be doing anyway.

I’ve heard it said that someone thought it might save water, but that clearly is not the case, given how many times those toilets flush for a single person. Google tells me that they are designed to improve hygiene and convenience, but sometimes they flush so hard that water shoots out of the stool. That simply cannot be hygienic, even if the spray misses your hands. Occasionally a well-intentioned plumber or janitor has overcorrected, and the flushing doesn’t occur until well after you have left the stall. Then you have the awkward in-and-out dance, waiting to see if the flush happens, dashing back in if it hasn’t, and trying to find the tiny button to push without holding up the line. Before you’ve washed your hands, of course.

The really amazing thing to me is how ubiquitous these things have become in public places. I would have thought that people would see the flaws in the design relatively early on and then choose not to adopt the new-fangled idea. Businesses would decide NOT to trade out perfectly good potties because they recognize that their clients are capable of flushing for themselves, thereby saving some unnecessary expense. Airports, zoos, and museums would recognize the terror such behemoths cause for so many children of potty-training age and decide that grown-ups could take care of it. And like so many well-meaning but misguided ideas, self-flushing loos would never take off, and we’d all be responsible for pressing a handle. Or a button. Or pulling a chain. Or whatever small maneuver is necessary to eliminate the eliminations.

Alas, that hasn’t happened. I’m not sure why. So I’ll try to hold still when doing my business the next time I’m using a public restroom. And while I’m thinking about it, I’m going to go stock my purse with sticky notes. You never know when they will come in handy.