My fascination with toilets goes back to when I realized on my first overseas trip that not everyone was privileged to have a giant “American toilet” that uses five gallons of water for every five ounces of urine.
Americans love wasting natural resources. It’s in our blood. Our ancestors came here, discovered unimaginable riches – mostly because we hadn’t gotten here to destroy them yet – and decided that not only would we take them, we would use them like kings!
You should see the way Europeans use electricity. They don’t. They have motion-activated lights in the hallways of the hotels; there is no reason to light them up if no one is there. They dry their clothes on clothes lines with their giant granny panties hanging on the balcony for the entire world to see, and most shocking of all, they actually turn off lights when they leave a room. Like that is a law or something. They don’t even have freaking air conditioning. It is crazy the way they act like they care about the environment or saving money or something.
This eco-cheapness also extends to the toilet. In Europe, they have what they call “low water” toilets. Less water in the bowl means less water is used to flush away your deposit. They even have a choice in the flushing mechanism so that you can use less water for pee and more water for poop.
Okay, I am all for saving the world for polar bears or whatever, but I don’t want to see my poo smeared all over the bowl every time I take a dump. The problem with low water toilets is that there isn’t enough water for your crap to float in, which leaves a bowl of smooth porcelain to catch your scattered buckshot, and just a tiny cupful of water at the bottom, very unhelpfully doing absolutely nothing in the sanitary removal of your feces.
So my husband, having been raised with such substandard toilets, claims to be able to lay one down without skid marks regardless of the lack of H2O. Apparently, the trick is to sit on the bowl, not seated firmly as I like to do, but scooted forward so that your asshole is over the center of the toilet. This means that you have approximately two thirds of the thigh supporting your entire body in midair as your leg muscles attempt to stabilize your pitched-forward body weight without you tumbling to the tile floor with your pants around your ankles.
So I tried his method and I still had a toilet that looked like a truck stop for circus people. On the next attempt, I scooted forward even more. That didn’t work. I scooted forward a bit more. And again. I scooted forward on the bowl until only the last two inches of my ass was clinging over the air space, the rest of me focused on not crashing head-first into a brain-damaging concussion on marble tile. I never once left a clean bowl overseas after a “number two.”
There are many, many beautiful things to see and do in foreign countries. Taking a crap in a low flow- toilet isn’t one of them.
Cheaper Than Therapy is a blog and live storytelling show in Montgomery, AL. FOLLOW the blog, LIKE the show on FB, FOLLOW me on Twitter @ReneaDijab or come check out the show!