Public restrooms – especially those in airports – cater to the mysophobic, or those who have an unnatural fear of contamination or infection. It is as if every traveler has the potential to be patient zero in a worldwide pandemic, and the only potential to avoid this has to do with the fact that you should never need to touch anything in a bathroom ever again.

I mention this because in said Admiral’s Club (The one in Terminal 3, Concourse G) there is a brilliant piece of hygienic tech in place: an automatic seat-cover changer. That’s right, automatic. No more pulling those butcher paper seat-covers out of the rack above the loo and placing them ever so carefully over the actual seat; it’s all done for you! Simply wave your hand at the machine, wait about 40 seconds, and with a clunk, a whirr, and a zip, the sheaf protecting your bottom from the germs of your fellow potential disease-carriers is right in place!

In a way, the technology is very cool. With so many people in one place, I have no doubt that airports are centers for disease. However in another way, it seems to represent the self-imposed isolation that we endure in the name of cleanliness and germaphobia. Look, but don’t touch anything, ever, period – and hope that the spirit in the sky will save you should you actually touch someone or something!

Now that I’m wrapping things up, I have one more thing to admit: I’m amazed I actually made it through the entire article without a joke about excrement. All of your, dear readers, should be proud, as that was my full intention when I started writing.

Happy Travels, and maybe I’ll see (or at least hear – clunk, whirr, zip) you in Chicago some time!