“Oh, no!” I thought to myself. “This is not happening!”
I tried again. And again. And again. Six different attempts, yet nothing was changing. My husband would have said to me, “Nessie, the definition of insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results.”
Darn it. He was right. This was getting me nowhere.
Panic was setting in. I needed a Xanax real bad.
I grabbed my phone and quickly typed a simple sentence into Google Translate. I took a deep breath, practiced the sentence in my head, and cautiously opened the door.
A woman started walking towards the stall, ready to do her business. I stuck my arm out. “Nein! No!” I nearly clotheslined her in my attempt to stop her. There were only two stalls set up for the Christmas Market toilet, and I felt so bad for denying her access to this one. But really, she should be grateful to me. I had just saved her from witnessing something brutal.
I needed help! There he was, standing just outside the door, the man I had paid 50 pence to only a few minutes before. I waved him down as quickly as I could. “Entschuldigung Sie, bitte!” He turned his head towards me. I quickly recited the sentence written on my phone. “Die toilet wird nicht spulen.”
The toilet. Would. Not. Flush.
Not a single trickle of water ran into the bowl. And I had really gotten the full use of my 50 pence. You smell what I’m stepping in? If I’m paying for a toilet, I’m letting it all build up first, you know? I can’t just spend 50p to go tinkle. That’s wasteful! I’m all for paying to use the toilet though, especially after I learned what this job really entails!
The man entered the restroom while telling me in German that the water pressure can be bad sometimes. I cautiously allowed him into the stall, fully aware that there was a toilet full of my breakfast and lunch, completely processed, and not smelling very lady like.
“Oh, gahhhh! This isn’t happening!” I screamed in my head as he grabbed the toilet brush. He held down the ‘flush’ button with one hand, and with the toilet brush, began FORCING my excrement down the drain. Literally stuffing it in the pipe.
OH, MY GOODNESS! I couldn’t believe what I was witnessing.
I wanted to laugh aloud at the situation, but I bit my tongue. I could feel my cheeks turning 50 shades of red from embarrassment and holding my breath.
“Es tut mir leid!” (I’m sorry!) I told him, as apologetically as I could.
And then, I ran!
I took off out the door, running full speed. Did I wash my hands? I really don’t remember. I was traumatized, and believe me. It takes a lot to traumatize me in the bathroom!
I found my friend not far from the restroom, petting a cute and fluffy puppy. I grabbed her by the arm, said something like “Awww! Schoner Hund!” (Awww! Beautiful dog!) to the owner as I glanced at the gorgeous pup. I pulled my friend to her feet and loudly, we took off.
“Run, run!” I pleaded while laughing, and together we fled the scene of my crime.
I’m happy to announce that if you got a kick out of this tale, there are many more like it to come. I have no shame. 😉 Everybody poops! Some just poop more awkwardly! Maybe that should be my blog’s catchphrase?
Have you had an embarrassing poop while traveling? Share in the comments below!
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