How Using Public Restrooms Are Like Scavenger Hunts to Me

I’ve Got to Go

What do you have when you take a blind woman with a bad bladder who travels a lot?

ME – with lots of experiences going on scavenger hunts in public restrooms.

It is easier to laugh at one’s self, over crying so I wrote this parody of my bathroom adventures. This way you can have some fun yourselves, have a nice distraction, and see the world through different eyes.

Enjoy using the public restroom with me going on a scavenger hunt.

Jaws clenched; I forced out a low growl through my closed teeth, “I’ve got to go!”

I wanted to feel bad for my husband, for I knew my fingernails were digging into his flesh above his right elbow, but I couldn’t.

“Okay, okay, honey. I got ya, but you don’t have to draw blood.”

The Doorless Maze

Trying to keep one step behind his fast pace, I detected a sharp turn from his pivoting body. Expecting a door from his abrupt stop, I raised my hand to push yet it fell when nothing was there to catch it. 

“Oh, it’s those doorless entrances you love. You know, the ones shaped like a maze.”

“Wonderful,” I said, already concentrating. My mind was trying to remember if it was easier to trail the outer or the inner wall. They didn’t go over bathroom etiquette at the rehabilitation center I attended for the blind during college.

As I got my bearings, knowing I was in alignment with the wall, a nice woman came in asking if I needed help.

“No ma’am. Thank you for offering.” I responded politely while biting my tongue to keep from educating her on how she ruined my concentration and delayed me. I was just praying she wouldn’t have to be sent to maintenance to clean up a mess.

Tucking my frustration back inside, I took a deep breath to concentrate once again. Inching forward, I listened for clues from her to tell where the stalls were.

Didn’t help this time.

Barely avoiding a collision, a teenager whizzed by. It had to be a teenager, she was talking and laughing on the phone without noticing anything except the drama being shared.

Alone again, I did some self-talking. “Okay ears . . . round two.” What do you hear? Are the stalls next to each other? How close are they? How many stalls can fit in the size of this room?”

The sound of a flush brought me out of my questioning and told me I was close . . . real close.

In fact, I hoped and prayed the door didn’t swing out, and that I was far enough away to avoid getting struck.

I missed the days my daughter led me directly to the stall to avoid such scavenger hunts. If a stranger volunteers, they inevitably take me to the handicapped one – maybe they think blind and visually impaired people are also physically impaired.

If they had observed how the doors on most normal stalls swing inward, they would realize once I discovered the door, all I had to do was push, swing my cane once to confirm porcelain, and my initial hunt was over.

Let’s Go Exploring

My other option is to pull open an extra wide door toward me, leaving me clueless as to whether or not I have passed through the door. Reminds me of playing “Pin the tail on the donkey” and them forgetting to tell you where the donkey is.

Once in and door shut, it’s time to play “Let’s explore.” Now, where is that toilet?

I appreciate these well-intentioned people; they know not what they do. This keeps me from complaining, but I wish they knew I’d get to play the same game again when they open the door for me to go outside. 

Feeling a closed door gives me vital information. Open doors are like walking blindfolded.

Nestled inside, I once again wish my daughter was with me to let me know if it was safe to sit, or not. 

Many times, she kept me from

*falling in

*sitting in yuck

*plopping on a closed lid.

Scavenger Hunts Require Exercise

Once safety issues aren’t a concern any longer and your business is done, it’s time for arm exercises.

Right arm to the right. Lower. Higher. Forward. Repeat.

What? No toilet paper dispenser. Try the left arm . . . same exercise.

What? Nothing here either.

Ouch! Might not have found toilet paper yet, but I sure found a trash dispenser. 

Concentrate. Your finger will be okay.

Back to arm exercises. Stretch higher. Try moving backwards instead of forward. Sweep the floor on both sides and check the tank.

Try lower on the walls. Ta da! Victory at last!

Don’t get too excited – there’s no toilet paper.

Just kidding, but that happens a lot too.

Small Scavenger Hunt

Time to flush, then you can leave. Flushing is a smaller scavenger hunt than finding the toilet paper. 

Start on the front right then move to the side. If you have no luck, check out the left, but you might have to push in the middle of the tank. In a hospital, look high. In larger stores look for an extended handle out to the side. Those are nice because you can use your foot; great for germaphobe’s.

If all else fails, stand up – you’re more than likely visiting an automatic flush. 

“I’m glad this doorknob turns easy. So many locks are tricky, or worse, broken adding another search to my endeavors.

It’s time to go hunting again, this time for a sink, soap, and towels.” I know I heard water running during my arm exercises so the sinks must be to my right. Yea! No one is out here so I can avoid embarrassment.

Well now, here is a sink, but how in the world do you turn the water on? I can’t find any handles anywhere.

Right then a woman entered seeing my look of confusion and my cane leaning on the counter beside me. She said, “Oh, those are motion censored. Took me a long time to figure that one out myself.”

After waving my hands underneath the faucet, they were ready for some soap. Wondering if it would be motion-censored as well, I was grateful to discover it wasn’t. Its reach and height made it easy-to-find. Score one-to-one.

Now, time for drying. Ah, paper towels directly to my right . . . easy to pull too. Hope the trash can is as easy. I’m really glad this restroom doesn’t have those blow dryers that are as loud as freight trains. They block out my audio clues.

This reminds me why I now carry wipes in coat pockets and keep hand sanitizer in the car most of the time.

I pray my husband is still out there and hasn’t reported me missing. 

For more tips on how you can help the blind or visually impaired, you can grab my eBook HERE.

© 2023, Jena Fellers. All rights reserved.