I hadn't intended on saying anything about the Larry Craig scandal, but this is just too much:
I've heard this other times in the past few weeks. "Why," they whine, "are the police running these stings? Don't they have anything better to do with their time?"
Well, not to put too fine a point to it, but what about compounding the unhappiness of poor travelers entering a public restroom seeking to relieve themselves only to find... GAY SEX? The police had received multiple complaints about gay bathroom sex. When you walk into a public restroom, you really never know what you're going to find, but is it so ridiculous for citizens in a free country to want to take a dump without sharing a thin metal divider with two dudes doing the nasty? Plainly not. Those three short, sweet words never applied so perfectly: GET A ROOM.
And for all the hand-wringing over the doubtful allocation of resources, surely the message has gotten out that the Minneapolis airport bathrooms are no longer cruiser-friendly.
As for Craig himself, good riddance, I only wish you were taking David Vitters with you.
On a[n even] light note, the number one lesson of the Craig affair is for fidgety folks like me: don't tap your foot in the men's room. Geez frickin louise, I never realized that my nervous twitches could possibly be interpreted as appeals for intimacy. Wowzers.
