That’s what we call the urinal in our berthing area. Brighty. Why? Because she sounds like a donkey; why else? So someone’s taken the time and care to post the word ‘Brighty’ above the bowl and behind the plumbing in large, red letters against a field of glow-in-the-dark green. I think the name was actually lifted (without even a shadow of regard for copyright or intellectual property laws) from a donkey named Brighty in some long-forgotten movie. But the name stuck like the glow-in-the-dark tape with the big, friendly red letters on it. And so she stands (or, rather, hangs). She’s the only trace of anything even remotely female in our living area.
But for all the smells, swear words, and insults that give away the distinctly male (so male one can feel the testonsterone even when the place is empty) environment, the sinks are remarkably clean. Yes, you read that right. The stainless steel sinks, ever so graciously adorned with the message, “Don’t be a pig, wash your hands after wiping your ass!” are always clean; spotless. That’s because everyone who uses either of the two sinks ALWAYS wipes it clean with a paper towel when they’re finished, in accordance with another small label-maker-produced sign posted in the vicinity of the sink. In summary: Brighty, red letters, donkey, smells, testosterone, clean sinks, two small signs.
Good night,
Andrew
AAAAhhh, I remember in my college days, when things would get lonely, all I’d have to do was step out of my dorm room, walk down the hall to the loo, and consult my good friends eyore and pokey, and all was good with the world.