The Toilets

The line snaked around the door, around the privacy wall, and onto the Metro station platform. I totally admit my planning hadn’t been ideal, but sometimes a girl just can’t wait. And even if it meant missing a couple trains while waiting for my turn in the toilet, it had to be done. To add insult to injury (and as should be expected), there was no line next door in the men’s room. If only I knew the culture well enough to post John as sentry at the door and use the vacated men’s side. But, alas, that would probably be as unacceptable as it comes. My sensibilities won.

As I inched forward (lines only move slowest when you need them to move fastest, right?), it soon became obvious that there was only one toilet being utilized. And when there were finally only two people ahead of me, they were chatting back and forth about that un-used stall, pointing and laughing, and looking furtively at me.

I had no idea what they were saying.

I checked my teeth, my shoes, my clothes. Nothing seemed malfunctioning or awkwardly revealing. So, it must just be my…um…whiteness.

Finally, the lady looked at me again, waved toward the stall and said, very haltingly.

“You go. It sit.”

Yup. Cultural stereotypes extend beyond the normal. It includes our preference for toilets and that I, of course, would prefer the throne instead of the squatty-potty.

(For the record: the state of that particular “throne” made me long for the comparable comfort of a hole-in-the-ground.)