Each station consists of a paper towel dispenser, a caddy holding two spray bottles of disinfectant cleaner, and a trash can. Here's what they look like:
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What I've noticed is that, for some reason that must be related to testosterone levels1, a lot of the men in the place are very aggressive at these stations.
1Archer, J. (1991). The influence of testosterone on human aggression. British Journal of Psychology, (82), 1-28.
The preening manifests itself as such:
- The y-chromosomed subject approaches the station.
- With chest puffed, he beats the hell out of that handle on the towel dispenser to make it spit its absorbent sheet.
- He grabs one corner of the fruit of his labor, dramatically lifts it to one side or the other, and then—with the force of a 400-pound bench press— rips the sheet to the other side.
- Manhandling one of the bottles, he effusively sprays the paper towel in such a way that 30% of it sprays into the air, and then throws the bottle back at its cousin in the caddy.
- Should he lumber back to the sanitation or cleaning station with a spent specimen, he often feels the need to do a hook shot to deposit it into the trash can.
It's all very entertaining. And for a mere admission price of $10 per month.
