The Human Race Can “Go” Anywhere

Just the other day at my work, half an hour before I was scheduled to leave, I was tasked with changing the outside garbage. I will preface this story by noting that this was at 2:30 in the afternoon. As I walked outside and turned the corner of the building, a waft of unholy fumes invaded my nostrils like a swarm of angry, smelly wasps. It smelled so bad, that a customer walking in the building asked, "What, do you have a dead body in there?" No, sir. No I did not.

Upon getting close enough to inspect the suspect trash can, I noticed a heretical mixture of "brown substance" mixed with the rainwater that had been falling that day. It was at this point that the remainder of my day would smell like a thousand rotting corpses. I ended up cleaning the trash can, and I will spare the details, but it made me wonder how we got here as a species.

Since the 7th century, Islam has placed an importance of hygiene during salat, or time of prayer, and in Medieval Europe, many clergy emphasized the maintaining of a clean body, even including public bathhouses in larger cities. Dating earlier than these, yet perhaps one of the most impressive engineering marvels for its time, was the Cloaca Maxima built during the early Roman Republic. This was a complex drainage system that would lead waste, "rubbish," or other unused items to the River Tiber. It was so vital to the society of Rome that it is thought to have even been made sacrosanct, as the flowing of water was seen as a holy symbol. While I already had a fixation for Ancient Rome, this only deepens my appreciation for it. The connection between humans and water throughout time has proved to peak my curiosity, so I find it interesting that something as gross as a sewer would be a religious artifact, and actually still holds up to this day (though I highly doubt the sewer is still in use, I would hope that modern civilization has found better, cleaner alternatives).

Needless to say, as the number of private bathrooms grew in a growing society, the need for public bathhouses became null. I'd have to say the former is probably the better of the two options, if I had to choose to do my business in the privacy of my own home, or while staring another man in the face. That would either make an incredibly awkward situation, or the best of friends, and there is no in between.

As someone that frequently bathes and uses the bathroom myself, this is all fascinating, beautiful history. So, this begs the question:

How do you wake up and decide that you will spend your day taking a Cleveland steamer in a gas station trash can?

 


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