Changing Room

On the last day of a visit, I usually go straight from the school to the airport, where I drop off evaluators and then, hopefully, get on a plane myself and get the Hell out of Dodge. Dodge being Jacksonville today. Traveling in a suit has always struck me as semi-pretentious. Why do you need to look good in an airplane? And why are you considering that tweed jacket/Dockers slacks combo a suit? If that's looking good, please let me look bad. I have nice suits, but I will take my jeans and loafers anyday. My desire to go casual on the plane home has led to my development of a new skill: changing in toilet stalls. Frustratingly, airports have not caught onto the clothes-changing wave that is sweeping the nation and have thus far refused to build locker rooms. My simple solution is to get rid of airport chapels. If you're praying in an airport you're way too nervous to be flying anyway.

Until this day, however, I am forced to scout out changing locations. Regular toilet stalls are difficult--there are usually whole areas that are untouchable for hygiene reasons, leaving little room for even the suitcase. Handicap stalls are roomier, but the aforementioned hygiene issues often neutralize the space gains. I've essentially got to remove my suit hanger from my luggage, get nekid in the stall, find my shoe trees while I stand on my dress-up shoes and then quickly get my jeans and shirt and casual wear before somebody notices, "Hey, you don't need to remove all of your clothing to go to the bathroom." Unless this observer is 5, in which case he will find it completely normal.

Today I lucked out and found a family restroom. You can tell it's a family restroom because the words "family" and "restroom" are clearly marked on the door. In case you were born in the 18th century or are a hockey coach, they also give you pictures: a man and woman holding hands with a child. If there were a universal sign for "family restroom", I'm fairly certain this would be it.

So, I lock the door and get to my changing. It's great because it's spacious and I have places to hang things and the privacy that somehow seems only natural in a family setting like a bathroom. Then somebody tries to get in. No big deal. Then a knock and I say, "Hold on." Again, standard. What got me was that when I left the family restroom the female traveler who was trying to get in was full of questions. "Oh, is this co-ed?"
"Yeah. Yeah, it is."
"I never can tell."
(Me thinking: "Wow, not only can you not read, you can't make the inference that a panted and skirted pair of stick figures represent a man and woman.")

My friend Jeff Ross asked me earlier this week whether or not I preferred descriptive statements or warnings on roadways. Example: some states simply say "watch for ice on bridges", while other states post the statement "bridges freeze before roads". I told him I preferred the statement over the warning because a warning can be discarded if I don't understand it. "Why are they warning me to watch for ice on bridges," I might say, "when the roads have been just fine?" The statement gives me the information I need to infer that I should be cautious, whereas a warning attempts to make the inference for me.

After my chat with the lady outside the restroom in the Jacksonville airport today, I believe that people need both. Not just the information (woman and man holding a child's hands), but also the inference (such as a statement reading "This is a man and woman holding a child in a bathroom. This bathroom is unisex. That means both sexes can go inside of it. If you are a lesbian or gay couple this room may be unneeded, but we didn't have the room to draw all possible sexual combinations on the door.")