When You Need To Go Super Saiyan To Wash Your Hands: A Hand Hygiene Emergency.
Rude Chicken reflects on the Chicken he could be in the public restroom mirror.
You ever get kicked in the face by the person in front of you climbing a ladder?
Me either, but it feels like that when you’re improvising the lost Buddha’s Palm technique just to wash your hands after ruining the air quality in that public bathroom.
How have we come this far for basic hand hygiene to be this out of reach?
I shouldn’t have to be a water bending savant just to get that little sensor to recognize there are a pair of thoroughly sullied and besmirched mitts in front of you, begging to pay at least a little homage to cleanliness.
It’s bad enough that you probably don’t have any soap in the dispenser.
Have me rapidly bopping the top of it like I’m absently waving goodbye to myself in the mirror, because the miasma I created slowly wafts out of that stall.
A great and wise person once said that “you are immune to your own brand.”
That is absolutely true.
Unless your brand doesn’t have a name at all and is just expressed through a biohazard symbol.
Taking inspiration from Prince’s autobiography.
As if the term “Dine and Dash” took a semi logical and somehow karmic detour, culminating in “Poop and Die.”
There’s only so much time and energy we can devote to this before you’re forced to question your own mortality. There’s no shame in running.
Who knew that hand sanitizer was created as a backup for faulty sink faucet sensors?
-RC
The frustration is real, Rude Chicken! You're not alone 😬