It was all I could do to convince her that the mighty force of the industrial potty would not take her down with it. And when she finally mustered up the courage to sit down, the dastardly auto-flush mechanism somehow triggered, sending poor V into a tailspin that could only be stopped with the purchase of a bag of gummy bears and some Auntie Annie’s pretzel sticks.
And I really feel for her.
Because the auto-flush toilet played a starring role in one of my first moments of public embarrassment.
It happened when I was about seven years old. The junior Lithuanian folk dance troupe of which I had recently become a member was to perform at a local middle school. It was my first public performance and I was decked out in full Lithuanian folk regalia:
To say I was nervous would be an understatement. Making a name for oneself in the junior troupe was an absolute necessity if one ever hoped to rise to the ranks of High School Dancers, who, back in their heyday, made it all the way to Rome to dance before the pope.
As any Lithuanian knows, there is no higher honor.
So there was the pope for starters. But there was also my dance partner, a dead-ringer for Michael J. Fox who was two entire years my senior and therefore an object of a mighty crush. He had freckles and feathered hair parted right down the middle. And you better believe he carried one of those enormous plastic combs in the back pocket of his lederhosen.
Just before the opening number, a real crowd pleaser that loosely translates to “Let Us Dance In a Circle,” nature called. I made it to the girls room with just minutes to spare before the show got underway.
Boy, did I have to go!
After spending a few minutes lining up several squares of TP along the sides of the bowl just so (I fart in your general direction, you pre-fab paper cutout shields), I was finally ready to sit down.
But just as I was hoisting my hiney upon the pot, the auto-flush mechanism, a thing I had not encountered in my short life to date, deployed.
Shell-shocked and unsure as to whether I should stop, drop, and roll or crouch against the nearest wall with my head tucked under until someone sounded the all-clear, I simply peed all over myself.
I did the best I could to freshen up, but I was realistic. Any hope of attracting positive attention from Micheal J. Fox had been hopelessly dashed, especially considering the close proximity in which one must execute Lithuanian dance moves and the fact that my outfit was made of wool.
Besides, due to the sheer embarrassment caused by my predicament, I was having a hard time remembering those moves and understood immediately that an audience with the pope was not in my future.
And I must admit that even to this day, I feel a little frisson of trepidation each time I walk into a highway rest stop to find myself faced with a toilet of the self-flushing variety.
15 comments:
I love that vintage photo of you! You were so adorable, and I love the cultural garb.
This was an excellent laugh, my little junior lithuanian!
What a cute picture! And how sad that you missed the Pope. Bummer.
My niece was petrified of auto flushers, too. My sister had to stand OVER the toilet, with her hands covering the sensor thingy and then my niece would finally pee, but only while still whimpering and petrified of the noise. She'd run out of the stall with her undies down before it'd go off...
Ha ha ha ha ha ha! I mean... I'm so sorry that happened to you. And actually, I dread encountering the auto flush toilet with my own little toilet beginner.
And they recently installed auto-flush toilets in my workplace, I guess to make us more efficient by cutting down on precious seconds in the restroom.
Oh that made me laugh. The first time I encountered the self-flush, I was so scared I ran out and told my dad what had happened. He replied, "well, what did you think of the auto-sink?" the what? "You washed your hands, right?"
...um, I'll be right back.
Oh my. I too had a peeing (on a starting block at a swim meet) in front of a crush story. I did end up dating him (and breaking up with him to date my husband) many years later, but I still have dreams/nightmares about it. I can only imagine having to confront it on a regular basis.
Thanks for the laugh!
Oh dear! I am cracking up laughing.
I also find those toilets frightening. And my calm can be purchased with gummy bears and hot pretzels.
Your daughter and I have a lot in common.
My daughter hates the auto-flush. Any time she needs to use a public toilet, she first asks "is it scary?" And then INSISTS that I go in with her. Even if she has to poop. Which (as you can imagine!) is sheer fun! (I've read through my job description several times, including the FINE fine print, and I have yet to find anything in there that says I must stay in the stall while a child poops.)
this is HYSTERICAL! :) My daughter and I hate these, too. I used to work at the California Science Center, and you would think that if one place could get these darn things to work right, it would be a science museum. Alas, no.
LOL. That is funny. And a bit sad too...but mostly funny. My son is fearful of those too. He keeps his ears covered the whole time he's on the toilet and when it flushes itself he usually screams at the top of his lungs "IT'S TOO LOUD!" hehe.
I saw you on Lisa's blog comments(The Girls' Moma) and decided to check you out. I am glad I did, thanks for the laugh. :o)
too funny! thanks for sharing that great story.
Great story! I too found your blog from your comment on Lisa's blog. Our church has those automatic toilets as well, except in the nursery hall :). But, the bathrooms that the kids use during choir are automatic and there is one little girl who absolutely refuses to even go near that bathroom. She instantly begins bawling at the mention of going to the potty unless one of will walk her down to the nursery hall bathroom. The ones at church will randomly flush even if noone is in the bathroom. And that can be very scary when I'm letting myself into the building late on a Saturday night to practice and I think I'm the only one there, but then I hear a flush from the bathroom on my way to practice the organ. And, I never make it to the organ after that! Just right back out of the dark and scary empty church :).
Ok, at one point I must have made the off-handed comment that the loud roar of the auto-fluch toilet must have meant that the toilet was mad at me. Which is a great thing to say to my preschooler, right? Because now, not only is the toilet loud and unpredictable, it is also ANGRY!
Every time we encounter an auto-flusher, Coley asks "Moma, is the toilet mad at me?"
THANK YOU I IZ SO SMART.
Just to throw this into the mix. We take care of a 78 year old woman, legally blind, arthritis in the third stage of alzheimers. Yet, she is still continent. She still goes to the bathroom on her own. She cannot flush, cannot see it, cannot remember it, does not know why it's there. In order to keep our home from smelling like a...well you know what, an automated flushing system helps. Really helps. Sometimes technology does have a place, even if it's in the bathroom
Just read this one and laughed so hard that I almost had an embarrassing accident, myself. Luckily, my crush wouldn't be here to see it, though. Now, if you'll excuse me; I have to go to the bathroom. But I'll have to flush for myself; we don't have one of those fancy things in our house, yet. Thanks for the laughs!!!
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