I have a bone to pick with Congress. Actually, I have a lot of bones to pick with Congress. I keep telling George I want to show up while they’re in session, with a camera, wander around and ask questions and write a blog about it. George tells me I will end up wearing lead shoes on the bottom of the Potomac. He’s probably right.
Here’s the deal. If we’re going to start outlawing a whole bunch of stuff because it’s dangerous, I think we should start with the automatic sensors on every stinking sink between here and Timbuktu. I can’t think of anything more dangerous than not being able to wash your hands because the sensor has decided you’re not worthy of the trickle of water it dispenses. I’ve discussed the danger of these hateful machines before, and every time I have to use one I’m certain they will be the cause of my death. Seriously, I can handle turning the water on and off by myself.
I really can.
We ran into really bad weather outside of St. Louis and had to stop at a rest area for the night. As far as rest areas go, Ohio is the only state we’ve been in that has decent accommodations for truckers. On the Ohio Turnpike, there are showers and lounges that are as nice or nicer than most truck stops. Our home state does a great job of making necessary things available to professional drivers. Unfortunately, Missouri has not yet adopted such nice digs.
I was bashing around the bathroom, trying in vain to wash my face and brush my teeth. The sink was one of those new three-in-ones — it automatically dispenses soap, then dribbles water on top of the soap, and tops it all off with a blast of freezing cold air, you know, to dry the non-existent soap and water off your paws. I managed to get my toothbrush wet enough to actually use it, and halfway to my mouth I accidentally flipped a little piece of toothpaste into my eyeball. Crest is awesome for teeth, but it causes instant, searing pain when applied directly to the cornea. I was blind in the toothpaste eye when the other eye started to water so bad I couldn’t see anything out of it. I was staggering around the bathroom, foaming from the mouth and one eye, grabbing for anything that looked like toilet paper to wipe the burning fire out of my eyehole. Of course, this is the very moment a mother and her little child walk in, while I’m foaming and staggering and yelling bad words all over the place.
It’s hard to regain composure from an incident like that, but I powered through, while the mother clutched her child close. I mumbled apologies for the bad words and cautioned them both to the danger of the three-in-one sink. By this time, I had managed to get toothpaste all over the side of my face (which I did not realize until I had gotten back in the truck), so I’m sure the Braveheart effect of the blue Crest toothpaste, along with the swollen eye and running snotty nose (side note: putting Crest in your eyeball really clears the sinuses out) was terrifying.
So Congress, take heed. Three-in-one sinks are bad for children. Outlaw them.