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cooch cave

at the newspaper where i now work, there is only one ladies room. it is windowless, cavernous and unventilated, housing 10 thrones and replete with soap dispensers that drip like lazy udders. i call it the 'cooch cave' because it is a festering stagnant den of vaginal fog.

i do not exaggerate. it has an airlock entrance, which i imagine was intended for privacy, where to gain entrance to the restroom you must pass through a series of two doors, one after the next separated by a short claustrophobic hallway. this hall is just long enough to ensure the impossibility of holding both doors open at the same time, lest some breeze penetrate the interior chamber and disturb the the homogeneous aroma of the vaginas of the 30 odd women (or more) who use the room. it is like the stalls are haunted by the ghosts of vaginas that never ever go away. ever. when i open the door to a stall i half expect to see a giant human-sized cunt-ghost sitting there smoking a cigarette and flipping through the latest issue of cosmopolitan.

i wonder what effect it would have on a woman's hormones to be forced to live in the cooch cave for a week? would long-term exposure to that concentrated level of pheromones alter her menstrual cycle in some way? i will definitely not be volunteering for this study, but it sounds like the kind of thing i would've tried to do a science fair project on in 7th grade. [note: in 7th grade i conducted a science fair project on the antibiotic properties of garlic; in one case swabbing my dog pugsly's ass with a q-tip and applying the germs to a petri dish. when the 'dog anus bacteria' had cultured, i applied garlic juice to it. and yes, garlic won the battle.]

because i work 2nd shift, i am there when the janitor sprays the place down with some industrial floral-scented cleaner which, in keeping with the whole custodial science/philosophy that espouses the use of urinal pucks, singes the little hairs inside your nostrils yet does nothing to obliterate the underlying organic odor. i swear, a woman long-since retired from the company could come back for a visit and, upon entering the restroom, encounter the still-lingering-after-10-years smell of her own cooch. "ah, my old friend!" she might exclaim, remembering the good times they had shared in their younger years.

before = after