[Critique Group 1] Leonard's comments re: Martia's sub for April

[tuchyner5 at aol.com]

I think this works for  the visually impaired and people with normalvision.  



Most non-visually impaiared peopleprobably  have not thought of closingtheir eyes and trying to use a strange rest room. 



I’ll bet that, after having read thisarticle, they might  experiment with thetask. Whether they do or not, the piece works to increase awareness  and maybe stimulate some changes in bathroomdesign and layout. 



For those whose visual losses are varied,, they might gain an awareness of how much they use their remaining sight insuch circumstances. 



I recommend  that anyone who works with the visuallyhandicapped be required to try using a bathroom blindfolded.  



There is a droll quality to this piecedespite  a serious  theme. 



For those of us who share  some of the problems described, the piecegives a sense of being comrades-in-arms.  



I like the title.  It seems to suggest to the readers that someoneought to actually design  accessiblebathrooms.  



At the same time, it is saying that whatis described is a bathroom for the blind. You clearly are telling a joke at your expense.  



Your guide dog is a nice touch as anobserver  watching   a slapstick comedy routine. Nice job. 




 


Bathroomsfor the Blind



MarciaJ. Wick, The Write Sisters



April2019



WordCount:  767



 



 



 



 



Thehigh-pitched screeching, screaming sound track  from the bathroom scene inthe Hitchcock thriller “Psycho” Plays in the back of my brain as my guide dogand I, with fear and trepidation,  enter an unfamiliar public restroom.Since going blind, I approach bathrooms at airports, restaurants, or shoppingmalls hoping to escape alive. 



 



Architectsand designers fail to consider using standard materials or logical floor plansto clue a person with low vision in on where to find the toilet, sink, handtowels, or garbage bin. With the help of my guide dog, I can zig and zagthrough the entryway, although we then have a 50/50 chance of finding thetoilets on the right and the sinks on the left, or vice versa. Once in theright aisle, we often finds the larger compartment for persons withdisabilities at the end of the row, although on occasion we hit the probervialbrick wall, having passed the accessible stall first on the way in. Fellowrestroom visitors typically come to our rescue as we hunt for the correctstall. Once found, my guide dog and I dance the two-step around ouroverly-helpful bathroom volunteer while fumbling for the handle to determine ifthe door swings in or out. Think of the possibilities!



 



Safeinside the cubicle, I secure the lock - once I figure out whether it is a slidebolt, a rotating knob, or a hook and eye apparatus. I fish around for the coathook (if there is one) on which to hang my backpack to avoid parking mybelongings on the “iffy” clean and dry floor. 



 



Onceensconced on the throne, I begin to search for toilet paper, praying I don’ttouch unseen surprises along the way – the sanitary product receptacle, forone. Toilet paper dispensers may be mounted to the left or right, high or low;Machines may (or may not) hold up to four rolls, if they’ve been replenished.(Note:  Always carry a personal tissue pack in case of emergencies.)



If aspare roll of toilet paper is precariously balanced atop the dispenser, Iinevitably will knock the roll to the floor and listen with chagrin while itunravels under the door out into the main area of the lavatory. As I lift myhips to wipe, I may be surprised when the automatic flush mechanism respondsprematurely prompting me to spring up to avoid the aggressive action and likelyoverspray; or, I may be forced to hunt for the manual mechanism –on the top,left, or right of the tank, or perhaps find a button or lever mounted on thewall.



 



Icheck my zipper and secure my backpack, becoming self-conscious of the timeit’s taking me to dispense of my duty. My guide dog waits patiently but refusesto help. It must amuse her, I think, to watch my gyrations inside this box. 



 



thescreeching in my ears increases in volume as I direct my dog to leave the stalland turn right, if I remember correctly, to find the sinks. If the facility islarge, like at an international airport, the echo chamber is deafening. Toiletsflush, water whooshes, towel dispensers whir, and hot air dryers churn like thejet engines on the runway.  The cacophony bounces off the cold, ceramictile. 



 



Followingthe sound of water falling, I inch forward searching for the nearest sink.Reaching for a knob or handle without success, I discover the faucet turns onautomatically when my fingers flutter under the nozzle.



 



“Thesoap’s to the right,” another helpful bathroom-goer says. I reach up and stabthe back of my hand on the spicket.



 



“Ifound it,” I say to no one longer there.



 



Now,what to do about hand-drying? I turn toward the jet propulsion lab on theopposite wall. The air dryer I bump into refuses to function by motion ortouch, so I double cross the room to the wall flanking the sinks. With luck, Ilocate a loaded paper towel dispenser that operates with a simple crank handle- I can exact precisely the amount I desire. An automatic machine always seemsto crank out too much or too little paper with each motion. By good fortune, Ifind the container for used hand towels directly under the towel dispenser! Howoften have I navigated the perimeter of a bathroom with my foot to hunt for therubbish pail, often tucked diagonally across the way? 



 



“Findthe door, outside,” I command my guide dog. Get me out of here, I pray, feelinglucky to escape the horror chamber alive..



 


-------------- next part --------------
An HTML attachment was scrubbed...
URL: <http://bluegrasspals.com/pipermail/group1/attachments/20190430/63b0c5fe/attachment.html>