On the other hand, there's a train of thought which begins with, "that which does not kill me...". When applied to bacteria/virus scenarios, it means that you need not fear a little discomfort, because the next time you catch it, you will have built up some immunity. So with your avoidance of infectious microbes, it may mean that when you finally encounter one you cannot avoid, you will be hit much harder than me.
On the gripping hand, I sneeze into my shoulder, not my hand, too. And I flush the toilet with my foot anytime I'm out. I can even lift a toilet seat with my foot.
No sense in being stupid...

Nathan,
Reasonable thinking, except that the mutation rate for these common viruses is so high that one can't really build up immunity to them.

OK - I've got the toilet-seat-lift and flush-with-the-foot thing down, been teaching it to my boys in public restrooms for years. I'm also good at not touching anything that doesn't have to be touched after washing the hands. But I have to admit, I'll need to train myself on the sneezing into the elbow thing.

I have a dream.

I dream of a restroom in a place far, far away.

The restroom has no door, just an open portal that leads to a winding passageway into a restroom wonderland. The passageway is wide enough, unlike those in certain American airports, such that persons coming from the other direction need not collide with me should both of us be carrying luggage. It is a big, welcoming, winding hall.

The restroom inside is well-lit, and well-ventilated. And there is no one else in there, because, after all, as Sartre said, hell is other people. What Sartre really meant was: the 9th rung of hell is other people in the bathroom.

I dream I need to pee. I walk over to the urinal, across a tile floor faintly redolent of disinfectant that is of such strength as to kill anything lower than me on the evolutionary ladder. The wall over the urinal is clean, both of handwritten graffiti, and of the printed sort published by Gannett. I do what must be done.

And then, as I step away from the urinal, I notice a gentle whoosh from an electronic flushing mechanism. No need to have contact with any handles. Plus, there's enough delay that I can step back from the urinal and avoid any urinal flushing "overspray." As a I step further away, a small device mounted high on the wall effuses a gentle puff of pleasantly fragrant disinfectant spray, suggesting countless such moments in the past that eradicated the foul odors and putrid aerosolized patricles of previous users' fluids, gases, and solids.

But my dream continues.

I head to the sink. All surfaces are impeccably dry and more pristine than the fixtures in a Restoration Hardware catalogue. And here I give a silent thanks and I see: Gone are the days of New Jersey Turnpike restrooms where one must contort one's body to lift a foot up to sink level to press the continuous-pressure-only activated water faucet. No, not here. Here we have a kindly little electronic eye that silently detects my presence and causes a gentle stream of instantly warm water to pour forth. And the stream stays on as long as I am within three feet of the eye--not the two millimeter distance required of less sophisticated restrooms, which could put one perilously close to surfaces moist with fluids that have recently cleansed the hands of rogues.

You think my dream is over? No sir. Within easy reach is a soap dispenser. But, alas, I needn't touch any lever coated with a congealed soapy goo containing billions of super microbes that have developed resistance not just to the antibacterial soap in which they breed, but also to DDT and nuclear blasts. Not here. Here an exactly correct quantity of soap pours into my outstretched palm simply when another electronic eye notices my hand.

I scrub while studying the precise angle of my tie in the glass mirror before me that is free of spittle, free of particles flung by sloppy dental flossers, and free of any accumulated mist from human breath.

I rinse.

And guess how the towel dispenser works? Here too, another electronic eye detects my presence. I needn't get closer than a foot. And out comes a four-foot length of proper paper towels.

After drying, I drop my towels into a garbage receptacle. This is not one of those receptacles with a lid held in place by some lever under pressure so severe that a man must push with half his weight to pry open the lid, such that not even Superman could, with one hand, open the lid with the used towel, drop the towel, and remove the hand faster than the lid can close. Not here. This is a nice, open, welcoming hole--one that takes my refuse into a dark oubliette.

I leave, and on the way out, maybe I think hear a faint, pleasant, ghostly, feminine "good-bye."

I have a dream.

Andrew Cohen

Dear Tony,
You are so right and I have to tell you how sorry I am for causing permanent damage to one so young. I know this has to be a direct result of coming through the door and chasing you down for sugar.I didn't have to give chase to the other boys. Not like I did you. I remember kissing you all over the back of the head,while you hid your face. I sugared you behind the ears, on the back of the neck,and not until I blew on your belly, could I get you to drop your hands and get up under your chin. I am truly sorry that you are unable to go to the bathroom without fear.

Consider this. Maybe, just maybe, you are taking one of those dradful colds and are feeling exceptionally grumpy. Either way it won't hurt you to have some hot lemon with honey. Put your feet up when you drink this and take a few deep breaths. This is very important, the feet thing.
I,m sending my love with lots of hugs and kisses to you and yours.
p.s. I see what you mean. I recieved my Catfish picture. LOVE IT!

Actually, Andrew Cohen, the whole "electronic sensor thing is load of rubish - they are expensive and are (from my experience) too high maintenace (or impossible to set up right the first time, hard to say). Either way, significantly often, they fail to work properly.

Replace them with foot pedals - nice, cheap, simple, dependable fooot-pedals (or foot-buttons, whatever you want to call them). No need to worry about germs - after all, you're already walking on the floor, how much worse could it be?

And yes, opening the door going out of the bathroom barehanded is not an option... I've noticed far too many men who do not wash their hands after using the urinal (and a good many who do not flush - I consider them lower life forms).

Why yes Perrfesser, I can spell dreadful.

I am constantly wondering why are so many people so dirty?

Anyway let me add this, in a restaurant I never place my silverware on the table, I set it on my plate or inside the napkin. Who knows if the table is even remotely clean...

I take advantage of my height. Most restroom doors have those things on top that make it close slowly. They have hinged metal arms that jut out. When the door opens in, I begin opening it by pushing the hinged arm, and then grab the top of the door and pull. If it opens out, I push right up near the top.

Also, I've carried hand sanitizer with me ever since an unfortunate incident at work.

I'm not totally convinced that mutation rates make the microbes completely new. After all, your higher susceptibility to food poisoning when you go abroad is not because food preparation is that much dirtier, but because you are not accustomed to the microbes (I've tested this out on three trips to China, including my current one). Locals don't get sick cuz they are inured...but they get sick when they come to the US just as easily as we get sick when we come here.
I also did see my first electric eye automatic soap foam dispenser on this trip.

Everyone knows it's impossible to get sick when wrestling because you are usually getting the living bejeezus choked out of you. Or vice versa.

Beautiful rant, Tony!

Okay, how many people believe my good friend Andrew Cohen should get his own website? Write and tell him so. The man is a comical genius.

On the other hand, my site is better for him posting here. Hey Andrew, do you have an agent?

Don't sneeze on your hand or your arm or anything else. It makes the sneeze spray everywhere. Sneeze on the floor. Really. Sneeze towards the floor. One too many health videos when I worked at the ND cafeteria freshman year have the sneeze spray germ spread permanently etched in my brain and it's a frightening, frightening thing. Please, please, sneeze on the ground.

(Trying not to think about the sneeze in the crook of your elbow and then offer me your arm guy / girl scenario. Entirely too disgusting.)

Andrew MUST get a website. RIGHT THIS INSTANT. Oh, and, uh, Tony.....I hate to bring this up, but.....what about.........airborne????? Oh, no, I should not have brought that up. Next time I see you, you will be in a "bubble".

Great stuff A & T...and there is a product for us guys and gals afflicted with this understandable degree of paranoia re: germs--tiny bottles of waterless hand disinfectant; try the samples section of the local drug store or better yet, the multi-pack of one-ouncers. According to the BH, these commercial products were developed originally for hospitals and were such a hit (and so frequently lifted by the staff) that the product finally made it to the shelves of CVS in a commercial version that smells a little better.

This prized lotion may have saved my life in Afghanistan this summer. I brought a few multipacks (BJs or Costco style...meaning a couple hundred miniature bottles) and filled every nook and cranny of my luggage with the diminuative lifesavers...and thus was able to pass them around like Pez to local friends, and even doctors and clinics. While everyone was getting sick and blaming it on the food, which is indeed toxic, since no self-respecting 'chef' would serve a dish without blessing it with a few sneezes, The rarest phrase in Dari or Pushto is 'I never get sick,' but I escaped the dreaded Taliban two-step by copious application this prized unguent. On everything, from hands and face to dishes and tableware. Yes, everyone laughed but my pit stops in the local hole in the floor were satisfyingly brief, while my chuckling friends rarely had a visit that lasted less than a half-hour. See, it's not the food, I tried to explain, it's the appalling lack of personal hygiene. In a culture where one is kissed, hugged and handwrung at least two hundred times a day (more if you are a Democrat from Florida) fifty handwashings a day just doesn't cut it--you need the magic fluid.

BTW, having been there before I knew that TicTacs, about the same size as the disinfectant, are the real currency of choice, even among terrorists. A tiny container of TicTacs are more valuable than a twenty dollar bill--they think it the most splendid digestive medicine every devised. I had so many boxes (Costco akbhar!) that my luggage rattled like a den of snakes with that rythmic, tell-tale beat with every airport footstep. Everytime I got searched in a Dubai, Lahore or Islamabad, my lightfingered luggage clerk had a little grin...and a new maracas shake to his walk. Unfortunately, when I began to run out of my stash, I found it very difficult to lie ('No, sorry, no more TicTacs') since they would simply pick me up and shake til they heard the telltale sign.

Mentioning Afghanistan reminded me of the old Army acronym:
the Five F's of illness vectors:
Flies, Fingers, Food, Filth, Feces
It basically tries to keep you aware of the connections.
I also heard that, for the most part, dry surfaces are generally safe; it's moisture that allows bacteria and viruses to thrive.
And what does anyone make of the fact that the average workplace desk surface has more bacteria than the average public toilet seat?

Here in Hong Kong, people (well, males anyway) wash their hands (sometimes) and after a cursory (read: pathetic) attempt at drying them, usually consisting of shaking them for a couple of seconds, leave the toilet, with the result that the door handles are wet from their hands.

The trick is to try and find a dry section on the reverse of the handle and pull the door open with a fingertip to avoid picking up a nice solution of fresh germ concentrate for onward distribution.

Have a look at my new product which allows restroom exit without pain.

Mike