Dry Run

You walked in there with reasonable expectations. One pump. That's all. One reasonable press of a reasonable dispenser in a presumably functioning public facility. The nozzle clunked down and returned nothing — a hollow, demoralizing click that said this dispenser has given up on you specifically. The second one? Crusted at the tip, bone dry, clearly unapologetic about it. So you did what anyone does in this situation: ran the hot water and rubbed your palms together like you were auditioning for a survivalist documentary, generating heat but not hygiene, vaguely aware that you are accomplishing nothing except making peace with a broken system.

Then came the dryer. That wall-mounted machine promised a fresh start — a loud, aggressive, 62%-effective fresh start. It roared. It moved air. It dried a solid majority of your hands and then simply stopped caring. The webbing between your fingers remained damp. You shook them out, wiped the rest on your jeans, and walked out the door technically cleaner than when you walked in but spiritually worse off. Episode 17 of The Daily Diss is the hollow clunk heard 'round every gas station, airport terminal, and highway rest stop in America: the empty pump, the useless dryer, the quiet indignity of leaving a public restroom and not fully trusting your own hands.