Training

In a far away place there is a men's room. Well, it's not all that far away from me, now, but it's very far away from my home and heart.

Today I come out of that room rubbing my hands together and my training partner says, "What is that stench?"
"I thought it was just me. Does it really smell that bad?"
"Yes! What the hell is it?"
"Lotion."
"Lotion? Where did you get lotion?"
"In the men's room."
"What!? There's lotion in the men's room? What are you guys doing in there?"
"You mean there's none in the lady's room?"
"Nope."
"Wow. Uh, how many kinds of soap do you have?"
"Two."
"Oh. Really?"
"Really."
"Uh, I'm going to go was this foul smelling stuff off my hands."

So, when I returned, I described the men's room to her as I describe it to you here: It's like being in a cockpit. A bathroom cockpit. From right to left: Dual lotion dispensers (one above the other), a towel dispenser above a hand dryer of the hot air style, an automatic foaming soap dispenser, a push style liquid soap dispenser, the sink/mirror, another push style soap dispenser, and (I shit you not) a biohazard receptacle. All of this wrapped around three walls of a cubby not designed to be spacious without a plethora of decorations.

What on earth do the guys here do in this bathroom?