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As I said yesterday, my wife and I trekked down to Charlotte this past weekend to visit family.  This is a trip fraught with peril, with adventure, and with strange natives.

And that’s just in the rest areas.

Now, I’m sure any of my loyal readers who have taken a long road trip have been to these places.  Tiny oases off the side of the highways where we can ostensibly refresh ourselves and answer nature’s call, all while stretching legs that have too long been contorted by the confines of our conveyances. (sorry, sometimes I take the alliteration too far)

But these supposed safe havens from the terror of dodging semis and trying to pass slow pokes are rife with danger of their own.  Within their seemingly inviting confines are many pitfalls waiting to snare the unwary.  Most are easily spotted and avoided, like that crazy group of college football fans, many of whom are half-lit without having even arrived at the stadium of their alma mater.  But, some….some, my friends, are insidious.

And most of these are in the restrooms, the one place we truly need at these shelters from the asphalt storm.

Now, many of the old dangers have disappeared or at least lessened over the years.  The days of the toxic bathroom, while not banished forever, are certainly on the wane.  Most rest area bathrooms are actually fairly well-maintained in this day and age.  But, there is one horror that continues to lurk in the stalls.

Substandard TP.

Yes, we have all experienced this whether young or old, male or female.  Granted the women among us are certainly the more victimized, but men are not exempt from this horror.  Nothing strikes despair into your heart like reaching for the TP to find it is so weak in nature that the merest tug to turn the roll results in a single square seeming to wilt in your hand.  So, we use any variety of stratagems to coax a reasonable length from the roll, but the result is never satisfactory….never sufficient for the true need.

I warn you, dear friends, the horror of bad TP awaits you all.  It lurks in bathroom stalls everywhere, but God help you should you fall into its clutches on the road, for here, in the supposedly serene rest area, you have nowhere else to turn for solace.

You have been warned!

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One Comment

  1. I have indeed faced the TP horrors. I have seen the fright so much that I needed to find solace. I want to let you know that it can be found. It maybe a bit strange and possibly OCD, but I now tend to bring my own TP, much as if i were going camping. I will always find the quality and softness I need that way. Just a thought.


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