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I awoke alone in my hotel room, a feeling of dread passed over me. I could almost hear the sound of the “imperial march” in my head, and Darth Vader breathing down my neck. The force would not be with me today.
What force am I talking about? The force of gravity, the bitch. I was on a work expedition in India. India, like all countries which are too hot and have too many people, use mainly Arabian style toilets. People who don’t know, these are the thigh-masters of toilets. You don’t get to sit. This poses a number of problems for people who don’t wear dresses like the Arabian dudes do. That is problem number one.
Problem number two is the fact that the specific version of the Arabian thigh-master I was utilising, was a budget model with no running water. No worry, a very friendly little man spends his days filling a 0.5l cup after each patron has visited the establishment he is responsible for. So no flushing, but rinsing.
I was not wearing a dress. Doing the shitsit without fouling you own pants is quite and accomplishment and I was rather pleased to have come out of this unscathed. My victory celebration was premature….one final step remained. Reach over the hole in the ground they pass off as sanitation, to get the 0.5l cup which is to wash everything spotless and clean before I leave. It was at this point that the entire content of my shirt pocket decide it was time to leave me, and I watched in horror as by passport and my glasses dropped down, into the abyss…..
The friendly little man helped me to retrieve my property, this part of the story, you don’t want to know. But as the saying goes, every cloud has a ever so slight silver lining, I made it through customs real quick!!
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