This morning DCist Ryan found a story in the New York Times about the lack of public restrooms in Gotham City. DCist Michael said he’d recently observed a tourist relieving himself in Washington Circle, and theorized that this might also be a problem in our nation’s capital.

I then asked if I could come forward and tell a story I had never told anyone. Way back in the twentieth century, as a high school kid growing up in the Virginia suburbs, I rode down with my friends to walk around the Mall and see the monuments all lit up at night, like they are in all the postcards.

On the way downtown, someone cracked open a twelve-pack of cokes, and I gratefully chugged first one and then another, and even a third. When we got downtown, I was thrilled by the sights, and everything looked better with my caffeine buzz, but I really just wanted to find a bathroom. With a trusted friend in a similar predicament, I wandered off to find the nearest one.

We tried the doors at the museums and memorials. We tried doors at government buildings and restaurants. Everything was closed. There was no comfort facility anywhere. After a half hour of knocking and running, which is hard with crossed legs, we decided to use–and I’d like to point out here that we acted in no connection with DCist, which did not even exist at the time–the closest facsimile of appropriate and familiar conditions we could find: the Reflecting Pool.

Photograph of empty Reflecting Pool before tourist season by Flickr user davebushe.