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2001-07-17 | 12:04 p.m.

In the airport bathroom stall, I slide the lock into position, put a paper cover on the seat and begin to lower my pants. The toilet, excited by my partial nudity, flushes prematurely and eats half the seat cover. I rearrange the remaining seat cover tissue into a fan-shaped doily on the edge of the seat, then sit down, pee, and wipe. I rise, pull up my pants, and fasten them. I stand patiently. The toilet just looks at me. I shake my hips and move my arms around, doing a little hula dance for the toilet's red laser eye. Nothing.

I reach over and punch the manual flush button on the pipes. The toilet flushes. Satisfied, I grab my purse off the hook and open the stall door. As I am walking out, the toilet flushes. I look back over my shoulder and glare at the toilet. The toilet shrugs and says, "What?"

+++

In the Atlanta airport, I think it was, there was a motorized toilet seat paper cover protection provider that chugs around the seat after every flush. I've never seen anything like it, before or since.

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