Why not
e-mail us?

Faculty/Staff directory

   Turns out that the most important question about Larry Craig's bathroom habits isn't what he meant by his foot-tapping but whether he ever made it to the sink after messing around in that men's room stall.

   The way events unfolded, it's likely that he never washed up properly before washing up as a U.S. senator. At least he had a plausible excuse. But what gives with that 34 percent of men who don't bother with basic hand hygiene?

   Do they think that only employees must wash hands before leaving the lavatory?

   Apparently, when you ask folks for a show of hands by phone, 92 percent claim to wash their hands in public restrooms. But the dirty little secret is that they don't really do it, if you believe testers who took notes at public toilets in Atlanta, Chicago, New York and San Francisco.

   The American Society for Microbiology and the Soap and Detergent Association, which sponsored the snooping in the name of science and public health, tells us that both women and men are slipping up on their soap and water. But men are way more cavalier about cleanliness in places crawling with germs.

   The market research firm Harris Interactive sent prowlers to a pro baseball game, a science museum, an aquarium, a pair of swarming commuter train stations and a farmers market in August, where they watched 6,076 adults. (We'll put aside for a moment the creepiness of undercover clipboard toters staring at strangers who've just answered nature's call.)

   The observers found that only 66 percent of 3,065 men washed up (down from 75 percent in 2005), while 88 percent of 3,011 women did (down from 90 percent).

   Chicago had the cleanest hands (81 percent washed at Shedd Aquarium and the Museum of Science and Industry) and San Francisco the dirtiest (73 percent washed at Ferry Terminal Farmers Market).

   At Turner Field during an Atlanta Braves home stand against the Arizona Diamondbacks, only 57 percent of the men (464) washed up after taking care of business - the worst performance of all the venues.

   Eewww. What were the other 43 percent - 351 people - thinking?

   The Mayo Clinic, after all, calls hand washing a skill that requires "minimal training and no special equipment."

   Were the unclean clods loath to miss a single pitch of Arizona pitcher Brandon Webb's third straight shutout? Did they have to rush back for last call?

   Even grosser: Did they head straight to the snack bar to hand money to the attendant and finger the condiment dispensers?

   Among the women at Turner, 95 percent washed their hands. Of course they did. I haven't visited Turner, but my experience with stadium potties is that they tend toward wet floors, overflowing trash cans and insufficient supplies of tissue and paper towels. Scrubbing vigorously is the only way to shake that contamination feeling.

   All these icky images were unleashed to plug National Clean Hand Week. (Let's not observe the occasion by riffling through greeting cards that others with dubious hand-washing habits have already pawed over.)

   An astute chronicler of the human condition like, say, humorist Dave Barry might help us draw from these data profound conclusions about the modern male based on guy gaucherie at the ballgame. An insightful pundit like, say, Stephen Colbert might ask whether the dirty-minds police ought to shift their fervor to the dire threat posed by America's dirty hands.

   The U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention still says that your mother was right: "Keeping your hands clean is one of the best ways to keep from getting sick and spreading illnesses." But British health officials seem to think they can cut down on noxious hitchhikers by banning doctors' neckties, long sleeves and jewelry, starting next year.

   Of course, studies sponsored by the Clorox Co. have reported that office desks and phones harbor hundreds more bacteria than the toilet seats down the hall.

   Excuse me while I go find some disinfectant wipes.
 

Have a comment? Please e-mail us.