But I'm just not comfortable when I use a restroom, and it smells, well, like the smell of human excrement that's gone stale after being the air for too long.
And then I turn around and see a sign like this on the inside of the door:
No, I did not write that as a joke, and no I am absolutely not making this up. The only reason the picture is blurry is because all I had was my cell phone and I wanted to document this horror.
As people always seem to in horror movies, I had one of those irresistible impulses -- coupled with an inner voice telling me Not To Do It -- to look inside the trash can.
Yes, it contained what I thought it would. (And yes, I'm afraid it was in New Jersey. Sorry; I know the whole state isn't like that.)
I tried not to touch the doors, and I ran out of the bathroom without daring to wash my hands.
posted by Eric on 10.13.05 at 11:08 PM
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A lot of places in Asia with unreliable old plumbing (even, until a few years ago, some venerable Tokyo department stores) have little wastebaskets in the toilets and signs reminding you that you can't flush the toilet paper.
Duty called! And I had no idea what I was getting into. By the time I saw the sign, I was engaged in the business at hand. But then another form of duty called -- a duty to document the horror. I stopped breathing through my nose, whipped out my cell phone, and did the best I could under very trying circumstances.
The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler
Don?t bang your head!
That is disturbingly funny!