Are public restrooms trying to tell us something about the state of democracy?

Fyodor Dostoevsky famously observed that “the degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons.” I’d like to broaden that to include its public lavatories. I was traveling last week and thus had the opportunity to sample the conditions of its bathrooms at both LaGuardia and Palm Beach International airports. Not to mention those at public beaches and numerous restaurants. It’s the sort of expertise that one develops being cursed with a weak bladder.
               
Based upon my research I’ve returned to report that the state of democracy is iffy at best. Let’s start with LaGuardia. The airport underwent a multi-billion dollar reconstruction not that long ago. Thus, you’d expect their comfort facilities to be state-of- the-art. In some ways they are. They appear clean and well-lighted with sparkly walls, stalls large enough to accommodate luggage and partitions that reach to the floor to enhance privacy. There was even a gentleman who appeared to be an attendant. I half expected him to hand me a towel.
               
The issue I confronted was the toilet seat in my stall. It was wobbly. I realize that we’re all dealing with bigger things at the moment. But especially when life feels as if it’s fraying at the edges, if not at its very core, a positive bathroom experience should be something you can count on. You paid for a ride on the flight you’re about to board, not one on your toilet seat. 
               
In fairness, this isn’t a problem peculiar to LaGuardia. I’ve lately also noticed it at the newish lavatories at the Taste of New York store on the Taconic State Parkway. They remain largely unmarred by graffiti, which I find encouraging. Is it too much to hope that civic pride is at play? Though paper products are sometimes left discarded on the floor rather than deposited in their proper place. 
               
The first time I noticed that — not on the Taconic but in a corporate bathroom — somebody had to explain to me that people are so afraid of germs that they don’t dare touch door handles after they wash their hands without the protective cushion provided by a paper towel. I happen to be a big believer in the human immune system. If touching a door handle was all it took to contract disease we’d all be dead. Folks, if you’re that worried about catching cooties perhaps it’s best to stay home.
               
But back to those rickety toilet seats. It happens in the best of homes. The bolts that secure the seat to the bowl at your domicile will eventually grow loose. Your attention to this matter will be appreciated by friends and family members alike.
               
That dilapidation process is hastened in public bathrooms which experience hundreds of times the use. All I’m saying is that compared to the millions spent on the aqua graphic dancing water feature at LaGuardia’s level 4 departure lounge, it would cost next to nothing to fully brighten the traveler user experience by tightening the screws on the airport’s toilet seats. 
               
But to my main rest room-related peeve. It concerns people that don’t flush the toilet after use. What’s that all about? I’m tempted to believe it symptomatic of the breakdown of social systems; much the way that people who toss litter from their cars display a wanton disrespect not only for their communities but also for themselves. 
               
But I suspect there might be a more benign explanation for the phenomena. Humans become dependent on technology which, in turn, promotes laziness and the decay of civic responsibility. My thinking is that public toilets increasingly come equipped with infrared sensors that flush the toilet once you walk away, absolving the user. Really? Call me skeptical but I have little faith in these mechanisms. What if something blocks the beam that alerts the sensor that you’ve departed? For example, a raised toilet seat.
               
There’s an easy solution to this societal scourge. Hang around until you know the toilet has done its thing. And if it declines to do so there’s typically a button that when pressed allows you to perform the mission manually. I’m far from one of those good samaritans who picks up others people’s trash, except on our road once a year on Earth Day and occasionally on beaches. But I’ll extend the courtesy of a flush, rather than flee to an adjoining stall, if the previous user couldn’t be bothered. I consider it a small price to pay to prevent civilization from spiraling into inexorable decline.
               
I would hope that every responsible citizen would do the same. Virtue should be its own reward. But just in case you require added incentive, I can testify from personal experience to a bracing sense of superiority over my fellow man as I watch the bowl empty. Sometimes I’ll even flush twice.