Upon their return from the loo, my son and husband suddenly seemed energized. “Mom! You have to see this! I bet it’s in the ladies’ room, too! Go, Mom, go!”
Somehow, I knew this must-see thing was likely a plumbing fixture — perhaps a toilet that flushed with the power of mental telepathy. Though still in empty-bladder mode due to the confiscated water, I was game. Because I’m truly worried about how sophisticated public “faucetry” has become while, at the same time, America’s intellect continues to steadily leak. For instance, I fear more of us know who’s on Dancing with the Stars than who holds our Senate seats. (The latter bunch, ironically, might be better tap dancers.)
So with great anticipation, I walked into the Ladies Room at the Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport, and there it was, bolted to the wall, the holy grail of Misplaced American Ingenuity: The Dyson Airblade hand dryer.
This thing, this invention, ultimately dries wet hands, not unlike a paper towel square or the front of one’s cotton shirt. Bathroom accessories visitors are prompted, via posted instructions, to place their dripping mitts inside the Dyson Airblade’s toaster-like slot. Then, on cue, Mach 3 air pummels the fingers, palms and wrists! I tried the gadget. It made the skin on my hands resemble an astronaut’s face in one of those wind tunnel videos — rippled and flappy, like fresh taffy blowing in a hurricane.
The process was disturbing on so many levels. First, I prefer to see my derma in a relatively firm state. The Shar-Pei look doesn’t work for me. Second, the dryer slot was so narrow, and I was so tired, I touched the edge. Germs? And to me, the worst part, some smart people spent three years developing the Dyson Airblade.
How do I know this? Upon my return home, I checked www.DysonAirblade.com. The site has a picture of a scientist in a white lab coat, peering at test tubes. Again, I ask, is this brain power well spent? Aren’t there diseases to be cured? New forms of energy to be discovered and harnessed? We have paper towels. We have absorbent shirts, people! And in a pinch, there’s always evaporation.
Should you encounter aspiring scientists and engineers during your holiday travels, remind them of the world’s most pressing problems. Tell them, too, to avoid airport bathrooms. These places are just flush with strange karma.
