Follow the Yellow Brick Wall

When I began tracking urinals, it was in Europe in the late sixties, but let’s spend a paragraph in the USA, okay? If you run from Maine to Florida on scenic 95 , in Maine there are no partitions between fountains!!! by New Jersey you got a fan that reaches just high enough, but once you hit South Carolina, down, the partitions are six feet high and two feet wide!!! I guess you got to say, ‘ Family Values begin south of the Mason Dixon Line!

Now off to Europe. Paris, ah at last we’re there! Back in the 60's there were still some open men’s troughs. Passers by could saunter over and give you a glance, a nod, or a raised eye brow and smile. They’re all gone. Now it costs about a buck to step in to these booths, but they are furnished just like some expensive hotel! And when you step out, there’s this hiss, an aroma cloud and the sound of the entire interior being purged!

Some places in France have Squatters. This is for more than liquid relief. This is a hole surrounded by a metal plate with indentations for one’s feet, and you squat. An American male tourist turned tome jerked his thumb at the open door and asked,’ What the hell. Someone stole the other part.’ WHAT CAN YOU SAY TO IGNORANCE OR INEXPERIENCE?

The old section of York, England is surrounded by 13th century walls. You can take a Tour of The Town Walls. It’s fun, and so are the garderobes, toilets built into the walls which have a seat and an opening which allows one’s wastes to fall into the moat, or just a pile, which can be removed in times of peace, but can be a wonderful biological weapon!

My son-in-law tells me that the new schools have urinals which do not flush! He says they have some sort of oil pool which forces the lighter urine to flow around it and fall into the normal exit pipe. Hooray! No more clogging and yellow pools that have to be leaped over or waded through to get to your objective! That’s really advancement!

Indonesia had some of the most interesting alternatives. Even medium priced hotels had a pair of covered buckets; the rest rooms were always near the main office. Indonesia also has bamboo huts along the river’s edges, and open ditches sans H2O or with it.

The South America’s Andes do not have urinals. Part of their constitutions allow a male to urinate anywhere they so desire. Usually church walls are yellow up to four feet. And women always wear ankle length dresses, so they just squat. Once in Bolivia my daughter snapped nine native ladies squatting by the road. We thought they were waiting for the bus. Almost as soon as she finished, four of them rose, the spouts of steam told the true story.

But South Africa is hell on earth for most non African males. I stepped into the Loo . It was an exact copy of a good old British Men’s Room. Tile floor scrubbed to a shine and white tile walls. Stalls with locking doors and of course a line of half a dozen fountains, each with a four foot partition on either side. So I stepped up and began taking care of business. Almost at once an African male stepped into the spot to my left, leaned over and peered. I gave him a really aggressive glare and he smile and mutter, ‘ Pretty good.’ and stepped away! He wasn’t even there for business! Just to get a look at me! Two more guys did the same. Then another pair made it before I could zip up. I got two nods, one grin, a so-so shake of the head , and one verbal, ‘ Not bad for white man. It made me realize that ‘ I WASN’T IN KANSAS BABY!!!

I couldn’t understand why men weren’t more open about sex and their penises until one of my former students aid, ‘Well that’s because you never worried about yours.’ I didn’t understand that either. Why worry about it? It’s all you’ve got. So it goes. Next stop . . . . Oktoberfest in Munich, with about two thousand Aussies. Ta tah