Our lives start simply enough. We poop, we pee pee, we tinkle, we whiz. We grow out of diapers and wetting the bed and the natural urge to stick a hand on our crotch when we have to go. We learn to ask "May I use the lavatory?" instead of saying "Can I go to the bathroom?" We learn the difference between boys and girls and we learn that the girls' bathrooms have tampons and the boys' have urinals. And then the bathroom disappears from our lives, the lives that we talk about in public, at least.

We go to college and listen to a great deal of rhetoric in our four years at the university. From convocation to graduation, noted speakers tell us where we spent our time and where we'll spend our time in the future. They tell us about the things we'll do, the things we've done, the places we'll go, and no one ever uses the word 'poop.' Maybe they should. Because the only place 12,000 diverse graduates will visit equally in the course of their lives is the bathroom.

It is staggering to think about how much time and money we spend on cars -- vehicles we ride in for no more than an hour a day -- in light of the fact that we spend just as much time in the bathroom. Going to the bathroom is one of the most intensely personal activities in our daily routine, and at the same time, it is the silliest. With that in mind, we present this review of the finest bathrooms that U.Va. has to offer. We don't claim that this list encompasses all of the bathrooms on grounds, nor do we claim that it is entirely serious. There are surely fine lavatories in the Law School, the Commerce School, and the A-School, but the following locations are some of the most frequented by undergraduates, and in our experiences, the most talked about.

Ladies:

10. Thornton: Risky Business
The only time I'm ever in this building is when I'm pulling all-nighters. There's a huge window that's always open no matter what the weather, directly beside the sink and it's ground level. I'm always afraid someone is going to grab me while I'm washing my hands. So I always end up just wetting my hands with only a splash of soap. Very quick and I'm out of there. The stall partitions go all the way down to the floor so take caution or else you risk walking in on someone. I have.

9. Clark Hall: The Writing's on the Wall
Dirty, musty. Huge window which looks directly into the stall. My first year some cops were called because of a peeper here. The guy had actually climbed the wall and stood on a ledge outside the window, waiting. I'll give him props for an original fetish. Nothing really worth mentioning here except the same stall door etchings I read each visit. I've always wanted my name on a bathroom wall, but since that hasn't happened yet, "For a good time, call Lisa at 296-9263."

8. Clemons Floors 1-3: Mirror, Mirror, in the Stall ...
Huge plop factor here. Lots of stalls. Never clean. One lousy mirror. Always pisses me off because I'll be alone until I wash my hands and someone inevitably barges in. And I can never be as vain as I really want with someone else in there. Even if they're in the stall doing their thing. I can't examine that new pimple forming, work the food out of my teeth, pick my nose, or check to see if those pants really do make me look like a fat ass before returning to my studies. So I shuffle around and play with the faucet or the paper towels until they finish and get out of there, hating them for being so boldly vain as to fix their hair while I'm in there staring at them and secretly want- ing to be as nonchalant about my upkeep as they seem to be about theirs. It amazes me how many girls do not wash their hands. Filthy college sluts.

7. Clemons Fourth Floor: "Hey! That's the Girl Who Stunk up the Bathroom!"
People seem to like this bathroom, probably because it's a single. Given, the plop factor doesn't come into play. But the lights always make me look ghostlier and sicker than normal. And there are always paper towels on the floor. Plus you can't reach the door handle while you're sitting down so I never feel relaxed enough to fully do my business. It's like sleeping while facing the door -- I want to know if someone's going to bang in and catch me with my drawers around my ankles. Plus there are some people out there who can really stink up a bathroom. Also noted is the dumb telephone line mix-up. I don't like having to verbalize every time I approach these rooms that yes, I am waiting for the bathroom or that no, I don't have anyone to call. And they really should add some form of an occupied or vacant sign because it's really annoying standing outside for five minutes before you realize that both rooms are empty.

6. Cabell Third Floor, West Wing: Teaching Mrs. Tinkle
I try to avoid New Cabell bathrooms at all costs. This is the worst. Always crowded with only two stalls. Plus there's no real space to wait so you stand against the wall by the doors. Every time someone comes in you have to squish a little closer and slide your bags of crap, umbrellas, etc., along with you as you inch closer to a stall. I once got in line behind my professor for my next class. Instead of asking a poignant question about lecture all I did was exchange that sheepish smile and sigh of annoyance. Anyway, the next stall free was hers and I got in there and froze up. I just couldn't do it. What if she'd left a pee dribble on the rim? What if I actually smelled something? She could have forgotten to flush! What I needed more than anything was a buffer user. I ended up just going to class. I still flushed though, so no one else would think I was a retard. If you have time (which you probably don't if you're using this bathroom) I recommend making the hike to the fourth floor.

5. Culbreth Lobby: Theater of the Turd
Quick trip back to elementary school when all bathrooms were orange or green and the sinks low. The light is motion-sensored, I suspect, because there's always a little delay with it coming on. Doesn't exactly fit the atmosphere of a theater lobby, but it suits. Often filled with the blue-haired troupe of professors' wives reapplying their lipstick between acts. On normal days you're usually alone.

4. Alderman Fourth Floor: Next Thing You Know, They'll Have Futons
I don't know why there's a big green chair in here, but should I ever catch someone sitting and relaxing in it to the gentle sounds of other people's plops, I'm going to bring them up on Honor charges. Most people just place their bags there. Always seems cold in here, too.

3. Cabell Fourth Floor, West Wing: Private Rooms, Anyone?
A nice nook of a bathroom. Feels very private should you ever want a clandestine trip. It's a narrow (but not claustrophobic), rectangular room. There is one toilet, but it's placed in a stall separate from the sink and trashcan. I like this because the small space feels more intimate to me, and things always seem more sanitary when I can't see the toilet when I'm washing my hands. There's also a chair in here, though it's of the plastic kind. Two sinks side by side too. Beware though, it's locked at night.

2. Cocke Basement: Cocke-a-doodle-doo-doo
The Gucci of bathrooms. Teal colored walls, smooth black stall doors, god damn stoppers on the back of the doors so they can't bang open (you know, with that burst of energy you often get after a particularly good bowel movement or when you catch "Man in the Mirror" on the radio). A pleasant, though mysterious smell. Complete with instructions for the inept. A large sign hangs over every commode: "Please hold handle down on toilet until it flushes." I'm sure it's there for a reason.

1. Pavilion VIII: I Wonder If the U-Guides Brown-nose the Toilet Too ...
This one's straight from a J. Crew catalog. Their photo shoots always seem to be in cabins in the mountains, but with that cute, trendy rustic look and random bits of elegance. Here you'll find nice wooden floors instead of that hard linoleum. Excellent lighting. In addition to the normal fluorescents beside the sink, there's incandescent lighting above. And you can control each to fit your mood. Because it really is all about the lighting. And this sink is beautiful. Lots of marble counter space and a gold (plated) faucet. With an electric socket to boot. I'm not sure what you can use this for but it gives me comfort to know that it's there. Still one-ply toilet paper, but somewhat better than the gift wrap tissue paper you get everywhere else, most notably in Clemons. Added bonus: it's right across from the U-Guides headquarters so if you're really lucky maybe you can catch a glimpse at your Lawn room application competition.

Gents:

10. Hereford: Smells Like Teen What?
Hereford bathrooms have a device mounted on the ceiling that beeps every 10 minutes and lets out a squirt of air freshener. These gadgets are probably on a timer, but I like to think they're activated by smell detection. I like to think that the machine knows my stench, 'cause, I swear, when I'm in there, that thing beeps like a truck in reverse.

As if Hereford guys haven't suffered from enough social stigma, there are no urinals in the bathrooms. Guys, of course, will never sit down to pee. The result? In certain Hereford halls, there's a sign on the bathroom door that reads: "Put up the seat when you piss / Cause we know y'all miss." Of course, there is always pee all over the seats.

9. Clemons Fourth Floor: Splish Splash, You'll Be Taking a Bath
The nice folks at Clemons decided that the best place for one of the coveted free phones in the library would be right next to the bathrooms, for the total multimedia experience, aural and anal. To make the two bathrooms "handicapped accessible," the potty architects decided to make each room as tall as they are wide (for all those nine-foot tall handicapped people), resulting in a resounding echo for phone users to hear. They also installed toilets so tall you need a springboard to mount them, enabling your poop to do the fecal equivalent of the Olympic high dive.

8. 1715 JPA: If the Front Door's Locked, Try the Porch.
You've probably never been here, but next time you're feeling the flow on the JPA side of town, stop by. The owners are very accommodating. From first glance, what you'll find inside will disappoint you. The toilet is rather small, invented before our obesity-friendly postmodern culture, so there is a high probability that if you sit down on this toilet your boys will smack the seat before they can dangle. Furthermore, if you're an average-length Caucasian-American, a well-endowed Asian, or a black man with shrinkage, your boys are gonna be taking a little dip in the pond. But none of this matters, because the bathroom radiator is less than three feet from the toilet, and, thusly, the bathroom is never cold. In fact, on a brisk winter day, there is no better place to curl up with a hot cup of tea, your pants around your knees, and a fresh copy of the Cavalier Daily (I recommend an Abby Fifer or Lee Camp "humor column") to wipe yourself with.

7. Old Dorms: Clean as a Whistle? People Put Their Mouths on Whistles, You Know.
Back in the hazy days of first year, I once "slept" with my face on an old dorms toilet seat. Everyone on my hall had used that toilet for a multitude of purposes and the next day, people said to me, "Dude. Dude. You had your face where I take a dump after my ten o'clock discussion." But you know what? I survived to tell the tale and without a single facial lesion, mind you. So let's hear it for old dorms toilets and their lack of infectious diseases.

6. Alderman: Hole-y Shit
Originally, for this article I was going to focus my efforts on an exposé of the Alderman third floor bathroom situation. If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about. Between the two stalls there is a hole nearly three inches in diameter cut out of the partition. It's the kind of situation in which you go about your business stocking the pond with brown trout, and as you lean forward to grab the toilet paper, you think to yourself, "Goddamn. I did not need to see THAT this morning," and take off without wiping or washing your hands, so you can gun it out of the bathroom with your pride intact.

The hole in the third floor bathroom is a mystery, an enigma, or at least it was for awhile. Friends of mine and I would stuff paper towels into the hole in an effort to remedy the situation, yet every time we came back, the hole would be gaping open once again. Rumor has it that Alderman staff members stuck some kind of bolt into the hole, but even that was not able to stop this sinister voyeur. Through my exposé, I planned on staking out the bathroom, posing as an innocent concierge, handing towels and scented soaps to bathroom patrons, ready to strike when the paper towels were pushed from the hole. I was going to unmask the villain, I was going to be an American hero, the people's champion, like one of the meddling kids in Scooby Doo. And then I was informed that gay men use that hole to ... ahem ... service each other while maintaining the alibi of being in separate stalls in case someone intrudes. Well. That kind of ruined my exposé. And now third floor Alderman weirds me out. But fourth floor? Fourth floor is fucking sweet.

5. Cabell Hall: I Can See Clearly Now ...
Cabell bathrooms are pretty nice. They're spacious, clean, and (best of all), they have a massive window facing out to JPA. It's not one of those opaque frosted glass windows, though. It's clear, so everyone walking down JPA and in front of Cabell can watch you. Besides allowing you to tinkle for an audience, the window also lets in sunshine. Lots of it. As anyone who takes a class in Cabell knows, there's nothing quite like the smell of warm urine in the springtime. And for those fans of the Alderman peeping hole, the only place you'll find more pickles than Cabell on a Friday night is the Claussen* factory.

4. Bryan Hall: Welcome to the Machine
If windowless, postmodern bathrooms that welcome you with a flickering on of the lights that says, "You! Hypocrite lecteur! -- mon sembable! -- mon frère! You are nothing but the hollow-man who activates the energy-saving light sensor" are your thing, Bryan Hall is the place for you. Of course, if you were a real existentialist, and not some whiny, spineless English major, you'd take a dump in the hallway, or in a graduate TA mailbox, because in the end, what difference would it make?

3. Clark Hall: Wells Fargo Meets Porta-potty
Facing the building, go in the right side, down the stairs. Follow the signs. The Clark basement bathroom is a hidden gem. This place is the FUBU ("For us, by us") of the engineering elite. Packed into a room about 8 x 14 is the most bathroom per square foot that you're ever going to find. There are 4 urinals, three stalls and three sinks. And each stall has saloon doors. The room is compact, but ergonomically flawless. If and when you experience Clark, you won't feel cramped; you'll feel like you're taking a dump in an armored car.

2. Cocke Hall: The Name of the Game
The name of this building is almost reason enough for its impressive #2 ranking. In short (or long), Cocke Hall is a place where you and your penis can feel at home. Tucked away from the hubbub of the computer lab, nestled among the offices of the religion "I want to be Buddhist too" department, Cocke is one of the finer bathrooms on campus. It's quiet, impeccably clean, well-stocked with good reading, and open 24-7.

1. Old Cabell Hall: Trainsquatting
You remember that part in Trainspotting where Ewan McGregor desperately needs a bathroom, and imagines the nicest bathroom in Europe, stating, "I dream of massive, pristine convenience. Brilliant gold taps, virginal white marble, a seat carved from ebony, a cistern full of Chanel No. 5, and a flunky handing me pieces of raw silk toilet roll"? Old Cabell is pretty close to what he had in mind. It has spacious ceilings, polished teal tile floors, a classy double door, and it's lit by a massive (opaque) window. More important, though, the toilets look like they belong on a spaceship. For anyone like me, who thinks that Y2K ain't nuthin' if it's not going to have flying cars, this bathroom offers some consolation. It's warm, quiet, clean, and equipped with sleek, polished toilets. Old Cabell is truly the bathroom of the 21st century.