The amount of piss on toilet seats in airports has me re-evaluating leaving the seat down, I understand it now, staring at a toilet with the seat lifted up, piss like machine gun fire from left to right, I can’t help but wonder if the man was a Vet, who caught a case of PTSD of his days in Vietnam as the broken light flickered “Charlies in the trees!”, the jungle theme and the birds chirping in the background brought this man no calm, he pissed faster than the flash.

This brings up an alarming question of how Finlands human cattle import and export terminal, the lustrous Helsinki airport holds second place (if i’m not mistaken) at international competitions (foul play perhaps). I mean of course i’ve seen some worse ones, a price holder would be a Nigerian one, which I flew to during the Ebola crisis. I arrived to a vanguard of masked officer holding batons for our safety presumably. The counter measures to effectively prevent infection was as follows, the kind handed officers comfortably forced us all into a tight circle, sweating profusely as the Air Condition was either off, not functioning or non existent and I guess waited for one of us to faint or bleed from our pores, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the first one to go, trying to hide my hands in my sleeves to prevent contact, after about 10 minutes of this we were free to go. To that state of fear a little piss on a toilet seat hardly bothers me. As I left the cubical still covered in stale pee from too much inflight coffee and beer, I noticed the cloth paper towel dispensers hanging lower than my ambition in life, a faulty product they are, perhaps tarzan of the make believe jungle had swung across them and then relieved himself in the cubicle, marking his territory, everywhere but where it meant to go, because who would want to ruin a source of fresh water.

Whoever it may be, I understand it now, put the toilet seat down.