You Ain't Cool Unless You Pee Your Pants

Last week was apparently Billy Madison Appreciation Weekend because the amount of urine-soaked jeans was at a premium.

Two guys and a woman couldn’t hold their water, plus there was another guy who missed the urinal despite being practically inside it.

And if you’re already feeling like the a drop of errant rain will unleash your internal waterfall, don’t join the line.

That’s why bathrooms should be at the front of all bars and restaurants. Not at the back, hidden from view. You should have to only go into a bathroom, non-gender specific, before even reaching the server. That way, like all good parents before leaving for vacation, you’ll be reminded of having to go to the bathroom on your way out.

Just stalls, too. Four on each side, each replete with a baby-changing station (restaurant only). All with bidets. And free toiletries, too. Throw in a line of sinks before the secondary main entrance, and now you’re in business.

The business of your business.

Let’s take the shame out of going to the bathroom.

Let’s not pee our pants in public, America.

But no bathroom attendants.

That’s a weird job.