Minneapolis Airport

Robert Masterson
3 min read
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I did a little traveling last week and ended up having a 2-hour layover at the Minneapolis airport. Being much like other people, I decided to check out the notorious men’s room where a certain Idaho senator was recently busted for soliciting gay sex. It’s the kind of thing one wants to see for oneself. So, I did.

My initial impressions were that, as far as airport bathrooms go, this one wasn’t too bad at all. It apparently has it’s own sound system because, for the few minutes I was there, I heard the last bit of “It’s Raining Men,” all of Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff,” and the first minute or so of “I Will Survive.”

I thought it was nice that they’ve installed a meth dispenser next to the little squirty things for liquid soap at each and every sink. Meth is practically a must-have for swift, anonymous, tawdry sex (even for heteros), so it’s pretty sweet that the Minnesota authorities have placed the dispensers right where they’re needed most.

The infamous stall itself, where Mr. Craig was allegedly cruising, is wallpapered in an understated faux fur and had a nifty little kneeler (like the ones they have in church) in front of each toilet bowl. Attached to the wall and next to the toilet paper, they’ve affixed a fact sheet on HIV/AIDS and yet another dispenser, this one issuing condoms. Again, this is something good to have (even for heteros) so kudos to Minneapolis for keeping their eye on that ball. Get it? Keeping their eye on that ball. It’s the only men’s room stall I’ve ever been in that had a mirror on the ceiling, something which comes in handy for all sorts of things besides auto-voyeurism. I hadn’t realized how smudgy my shirt had gotten while I was lounging against the wall waiting for my turn.

The framed photos of Ryan Seacrest, Anderson Cooper, and Jodi Foster blended well with the overall décor and help patrons remember what anonymous sex in bathrooms is all about. It’s the open secrecy that makes the whole situation so…so…piquant. It’s always exciting to contemplate what would happen if the rest of world found out.

People seem to dress up for their visit to the Minneapolis airport men’s room. At least the young men do. And the cops. The cops dress up there a lot. There are lots of Tom of Finland-looking guys in some sharp looking clothes. The senators and the evangelical ministers don’t dress up so much, though. It’s more like business casual for them, but then again, they don’t have to dress up so much. Their attraction comes from inside.

In two weeks, I have another layover in Salt Lake City and I am looking forward to seeing the place where polygamists poop.

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