I sit on the bus seat, reading the pamphlet. In some section at the bottom about community, the university boasted of having traditional and inclusive bathroom solutions. I didn't understand what they meant. How can a bathroom be uninclusive? I pondered this question as my arrival to the campus loomed ahead. Aha! The metaphorical lightbulb popped above my head as I remembered half of people can't use urinals. Or rather, would prefer not to. So, a urinal makes a bathroom noninclusive, so the female restrooms, devoid of urinals, must be inclusive. Does that mean the male bathrooms are the traditional ones? How archaic, how barbaric, how sexist, I thought to myself. You would think that the age of such blatant discrimination against women was behind us, yet here is a university campus calling a whole gender the traditional one. The campus drew nearer still, and a hole opened in my gut. Was this really where I would want to be? Where they use such hard-to-understand terms to hide their potentially blatant discrimination? No, I proudly proclaimed to myself, and I would hope the students and faculty wouldn't stand up for it either. I resolved myself; Perhaps I misunderstood. I must have made a mistake. But again, the question rang in my mind - traditional and inclusive, in what way? Ah, the answer was in front of me the whole time. The separation of male and female is uninclusive to begin with. Simply removing things like urinals and labels provides the inclusivity that we hope for. Meanwhile, traditional must mean keeping the separation, leaving a layer of comfort for some. I smile to myself, the proverbial light above my head now actually shining properly. With the hole in my gut filled, I look ahead, now seeing the campus take form, my short but long journey coming to an end. The bus stops. I take my things and leave. I walk under the tall campus buildings alongside many hundred peers. I think back to the pamphlet and recall the sense of union and openness they wished to convey. Deep inside me, I feel their message. I enter the largest building in front of me. The reception was full of students and faculty; everyone talked in a happy and cheerful manner, befitting of the potential to come. It would soon be my turn to be in their place. But what was that? I saw, from the corner of my eye, something that suddenly took over my entire focus. A bathroom sign. I was sure I had come to the correct conclusion of the wording, but a lingering doubt swirled around me. I knew it wouldn't go away until I saw if I was right with my own two eyes. I went down the hallway and turned the corner to see the two doors. One said, "Traditional." One said, "Inclusive." I stood there in shock. What could this mean? If I opened the traditional door, would I be met with two other doors, one of female and one of male? Or would I be met unceremoniously with urinals? I started making my way towards them. The dark cloud above me made it hard to consider opening either, but I must. Which entry was less painful to atempt first? I put my hand on the "Inclusive." door. I opened it slowly. A single nearly surgically white room apeared in front of me; within, a single toilet-like object, unlike anything I had seen before. Various seating elements surrounded a large funnel like basin. Idle jets protruded from the sides, seemingly eager to propel all matter on percaline down the funnel into the void below. The room was uncanny and surreal. A small mirror, soap bottle, and a single faucet without a sink sat in one corner. Indeed, this felt "Inclusive" in a way beyond my imagination. It felt inclusive beyond humanity. I felt myself oddly believing that any animal I could think of could find themselves being comfortable using this room. If life from elsewhere came to us, made of different chemistry and of an unthinkable form, this would be a bathroom that could accommodate them. I left the room. I wasn't upset at anyone, witnessing that, no one could hold the opinion the people who had it constructed were discriminatory against anything. I felt somewhat relieved amidst being perplexed. With no time to hope to fully process what I saw, dread once again filled me. What was beyond the traditionl door? I could only predict that it wouldn't be anything I could have thought of. I reach for the door post haste, as if in hopes to end this brief but excruciating exploratory adventure. I gently open the door. There lie the most putrid, terrible thing I had seen, never given the opportunity to see something as such, due to the age I had been born into. A terrible, unlit, rotting room, the stone and wood walls were wet and shiny from something no one would want to know. At the center a massive dirt pit had been dug out and stone bricks had been placed around it. A tremendous, steaming pile of what I could only hope was only human feces sat in the middle of the pit. My eyes water and my brain cries in agony. And beyond all, a question reverberates my very bones. What tradition? But it all resolves itself too quickly. The decay, the terror, the chaos, the confusion. Beyond the tiny sliver of time in which we are attempting to conquer the chaos, all of human history, nay, all of history embodies such abrasive terror, chaos, and confusion. We sort such experiences into such categories, but the reality is that they are mere labels. Even medieval torture engineers would be hesitant to call such savagery tradition, but is it not the tradition of our universe to have no tradition? We decide which tradition is good, and which is bad as we progress in our lives, whose to say the traditions we hold so dear to us would be considered infeasibly terrible come ten thousand years? Truly, while experiencing these bathrooms has been physically agonizing, perhaps in retrospect I see now that they have opened up my eyes beyond all preconceived notions I had come to have about them. Certainly, this must have been the goal. But also, is that not again a preconceived notion I had? Was any of this meant to be interpreted? Was it critique, art, or literally meaningless? how did it come to be? By some god? It swirls back to the question I think about most often: Which religion is the correct one? I pass out from the smell, never to awaken again.