Sharing a bathroom for five weeks with about 15 strangers sounds like a recipe for disaster, especially since at home I only share a bathroom with, well, no one. Of course, I prepared for this adjustment. For starters, I brought Poo Pourri, the before-you-go toilet spray, and I was fairly confident that I could refrain from belting the soundtrack to “Mamma Mia!” in the shower for the sake of all the other girls’ eardrums.
I also packed flip-flops to wear in the shower so I could avoid getting clumps of foreign hair on my feet. In short, I wasn’t looking forward to the community bathroom.
Surprise: This lavatory gave me so much, and no, I’m not talking about foot fungus.
I made my first friends at cherubs in the powder room because apparently, when you share a restroom with 15 girls, you become comfortable with one another quickly. I think back to the first day of the summer.
“Hi, I’m Anna Sophia,” I said, while washing my hands.
“Hey, I’m NuNu,” she said.
And just like that, I had made my first friend, right next to a toilet stall.
The next morning, I was in the bathroom stall, and I heard her voice, and before I could even flush, I shouted, “NuNu!” When she shouted back, “Anna Sophia?” in a nonskeptical and nonweirded-out voice, that’s when I knew we were going to be friends.
The bathroom is where all of us transitioned from floormates to friends. Truly.
If you ask me, it should be renamed the “common room,” given how much everyone hangs out in there.
The bathroom is where each of us has vented about sources and trend stories and has comforted one another when we were homesick.
There is no better place to have talks with anyone you barely know than when you’re both brushing your teeth or washing your face. Even at the crack of dawn — which we refer to as 8 a.m. here — or right before you go to sleep — which can be anywhere between 11 p.m. to 6 a.m. — conversations by the sinks are bustling.
I’ve made more friends by simply just taking Mother Nature’s call than participating in any icebreaker game.
So if you’re like me, a shower singer and a ladies’ room stinker-upper, don’t be nervous about sharing a lavatory for five weeks. Just buy some Poo Pourri and get ready to make lifelong friends in one of the most unexpected places.