Western Style, My Ass

Sept. 3rd :

I had an interesting experience today while trying to take a dump in the school bathroom.  It could be comparable to most of my experiences here in this foreign country thus far.

At first I wanted to be alone, so I waited for my moment of privacy.  I noticed the 2 sets of toilet shoes as my first clue that I was the only person in the bathroom.  I slipped a pair on knowing full well that should someone stumble into the bathroom my shoes would be a dead give away it was the American taking a dump.  But I was willing to chance it just in case someone came in and saw 2 toilet shoes but heard someone in the bathroom and thought, "eew, gross - potty shoes American!"  At least taking a crap is somewhat more universally forgivable. Perhaps 'potty shoes' is not so much.

So - I enter the "western" style stall.  My excitement for the familiar is quickly replaced with sadness and disappointment.  There is a toilet with a seat, yes, but the seat is wrapped with a terrycloth seat cover.  A moist terrycloth seat cover.  But a seat none the less so I take it.  I think it was the coffee that induced an urgency to the bathroom - DAMN than amazing caffeine rush in the morning!   

Double edged sword : No coffee - tired and slow through the day but no midday dumping. Delicious can of sweet cold coffee - life is great until 2:00 when public dumping is necessary.

Back to the imagery of me on the terrycloth toilet seat, my own little piece of Dante's Inferno.  I have gotten over the first few foreign obstacles but here is the test.  I begin my usual toilet session and things are moving along.  A ray of hope for a quick return into the office and avoiding public awkwardness.  No sooner am I enjoying this thought, my body betrays me.  I have no control and I don't know whatever gave me that idea.  It's stuck.  A moment of panic.  I can hear the kids in the hall.  What do I do?  Push? Reposition? I hear something!  Pinch? Pause?  At this point I'm playing tug of war with my butt.  

I know I am at no place to fully retreat so i bare down for my last desperate attempt to save myself from another experience of a cultural unknown...and the very familiar sting of humiliation.  I grab for the toilet paper which is housed in its own roll of terrycloth.  Embroidered on the terrycloth the words, four seasons.  I hope they are referring to the changing of the weather because this is sure as shit (pun intended) NOT the Four Seasons hotel I can tell you that.  

As I conclude my experience I leave the stall feeling slightly molested.  The floor is wet, the toilet seat is damp terrycloth and who knows where these toilet shoes have been before me?  I can only hope this experience will make me a stronger person and I will begin to feel anything close to optimism again.  Maybe tomorrow or maybe after I take a shower, when my body is mine again and not this foreign place's.