I sit down on the toilet.
My eye drifts, as often it does when I'm occupied by other business.
That's when I see it.
It's an orange poster. There's some clip art of a city skyline on it, and it was full of unidentifiable chicken scratch. Fuckin chicken scratch everywhere, with weird symbols that I couldn't understand.
Who the heck even invented this weird language. some of the symbols sharp and complicated and impossible.
It was clearly an advert for some event. How did they expect people to come to their shit if they don't speak clearly? Or is it 'Asian' only. Isn't that racist? Why in the middle of my English speaking university, do I have to be affronted with this crap in the bathroom stall?
The pen was out of my pocket before I had given it a second thought. I leaned forward, mid-piss, and wrote.
"Speak ENGLISH. It's a universal language." I underlined it twice for good measure. I clicked the pen and shoved it back in my pocket.
-
"Take a quick break class, see you here in ten minutes,"
I leap out of my chair, I need the girl's bathroom.
There was one person in line in front of me. I avoid her eyes and look at the ground. I could have held on until I got home to the apartment, but I was too desperate now, so desperate that I accidentally took my pen.
I heard a flush and quickly slipped in and sat down.
I saw the usual orange ad for the rooftop bar on the door. I looked again when I saw black angry scrawl written on the side.
I breathed in. Speak English? Isn't that what I do all day while living here? How many times have I been asked to repeat?
I finish what I'm doing, and stand, opening my pen.
I draw a long arrow to the other side and write.
"That's rude. How many second languages do you speak? Grow up."
I close my pen and go back to class.
-
I'm keen to go to the toilet and see my handiwork the next day. A part of me feels bad. Will anyone knows it was me? Could they recognize my handwriting? Maybe I should take the poster down.
I stride in and look at the wall.
Ugh.
How rude? I bite my lip. I'm annoyed, but I can't help the hot flush of embarrassment churn in my stomach. I pull out my pen. I want to write something back, but nothing comes to my head. I draw an annoyed face with another arrow. still no words.
Whatever. If I don't go now I'll miss my train.
-
Finally. I can go. I've been waiting in line for ages. RMIT should get some more bloody toilets. I sit down in the furthest stall and take note of my lavatory entertainment on the door.
I notice it's all in Chinese. I also notice that there's some aggravated conversation in black and blue pen.
"Speak English..." I sigh. How ignorant. I didn't think RMIT would be like this since it was so liberal.
I read the clap back. All the arrows are confusing, but it's funny. People are so strange. I wonder if they knew each other. I want to write "AMEN" on the poster, but I didn't bring a pen today.
I wash my hands. Maybe I'll take a photo next time I'm in here.
-
The next week, the poster is gone.
((This is inspired by a poster I found in the toilets of the NAS a few weeks ago.))
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