I ain't got no squat



Funny post that I found. Writer is an Englishman working in Bangkok. Now I think I know why there isn't any squat toilet bowls in western countries haha.

I had a business meeting today in a government office in Nontaburi province, about an hour away from my home. The meeting began at 9:00 this morning and by about 9:08 my bowels were rumbling. I had to take a dump.

Big Time.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think I could jump up right after the meeting began and disappear for ten minutes, so I decided to wait until we had a break. That turned out to be nearly 90 minutes later.

At break time I set off on a fast walk to the men’s toilet which I was told was one floor down. Rather than spend a lot of time describing the sight I was faced with when I arrived at the WC, I’ll simply refer you to the picture at the top of the blog. While this is not precisely what my toilet looked like, it’s a damned good approximation.

I couldn’t believe it. This was a Thai government office. How could they NOT have a *real* toilet for me. There were three stalls, so there was hope. I checked them all. No luck. Three squatters.

I realized that the stall had a bucket of water but no toilet paper. (If you have to ask you don’t want to know). The clock was ticking, but not just on the break time. I had a more urgent physical clock ticking away below my belt line. I needed to act fast.

I said a little prayer and looked on the wall near the door of the bathroom. YES!! There was a toilet paper roll mounted on the wall. The idea is that you grab a handful on the way in and use it at the appropriate time. I moved as quickly as my condition would allow and started pulling. It was a good-news-bad-news thing. The good news was that there was toilet paper. The bad news was that it was the end of the roll. There was just enough for one, very careful, ass-wiping. There wouldn’t be any second chances.

I draped the clean toilet paper around my neck, leaving an empty roll for the next unlucky bastard who found himself in this building and needing to pinch a loaf. Now, if you’ve never used a squat toilet, it’s difficult to explain just how hard it is to use one if you haven’t grown up using them.

You don’t sit on the throne like Al Bundy on a Sunday afternoon, you squat over a hole the way I imagine Neanderthals did when they needed to grunt one out at the end of a long day of hunting. Thais — in fact most Asians — spend their lives squatting and they can manage to achieve a flat-footed position with their bum just inches off the ground without ever having their balance or equilibrium threatened. Me? I can’t do it. I never could have done it in my life. I can’t dream about learning to do it. Somehow, Thai people simply lift their skirts or drop their drawers, squat directly over this hole in the floor and fill it with poo.

Now, one of the things to get in your head if you’ve never visited one of these is that the floor is always soaking wet. The bucket of water that is used to ‘flush’ the toilet invariably ends up wetting everything.

I’ve always struggled to manage my kit so that I accomplish everything:

My trousers stay dry
I shit in the hole and not on my pants
I pee in the hole and not on my pants or my shoes
I manage to clean my bum and flush at the end without soaking my underwear like sponge

I’ve found only one solution over the years.

Basically, I get undressed. I take my pants and underwear off and hang them in a safe dry place while I manage my business with the squatter. Getting my pants off requires losing the shoes, and if I don’t want them to be soaking wet I have to remove my socks as well. It gets to be quite an undertaking in the typically hot, fetid, cramped, stinking environment of a Thai squat toilet.

Today I was in a shirt and tie, with my brand new tailored slacks and Ecco walking shoes. I needed to get rid of the belt, pants, underwear, shoes and socks as quick as I could. My insides were turning to water and I was about to explode. I also had only about 7 minutes before the meeting was supposed to re-convene.

I decided I’d better get started. I inspected the space and found a nail sticking out of the wall. I carefully draped my precious 20 inches of single-ply toilet paper over the nail, then double checked to make sure there was no chance that it would fall. Now I had to get my shoes and socks off. Fortunately I’ve had some practice at this over the years and I’ve got a pretty good move where I loosen and step out of my shoe and remove my sock from my right foot. Then, I stand on top of the shoe I’ve just taken off, and remove the shoe and sock from the other foot.

All this care was pretty much for naught today, since I was gonna have to squat barefoot on the wet floor anyway, but I still executed the move pretty smoothly.

I gracefully removed my pants, but then realized that there was no place to put them where they would stay dry. With the pressure on my sphincter mounting I finally spotted a bolt on the window that would serve. I hooked my belt loop over the head of the bolt and miraculously my pants stayed where I’d put them. The underwear were off in a flash, since my feet were still dry. (I hadn’t yet abandoned the island-like safety of my Eccos).

Finally I was ready to move into position. I turned my bulk so that I could get a foot on each side of the opening; this necessitated that the souls of my feet get damp, but I comforted myself with the idea that it was all fresh clean water from the cistern bucket. My ass, instead of being carefully placed two or three inches above the hole in the ground as intended, was hovering a foot and a half or more in the air. It was a dangerous position to be in… one where anything could happen.

There was a split second wooossh and what had been inside now was outside. Fortunately I’d moved my shoes against the wall because there was a fair bit of splatter.

Now that I’d relaxed, my urine started flowing freely. And this is where the logistics all got to be a bit too much for me. I failed to maintain directional control and the spray started missing the hole and streamed all over the floor in front of me. I was so dazed and confused that I spent three or four seconds creating a yellow puddle before I realized what I’d done. It was too late.

But there was no time for self-recrimination. I was just going to have to make the best of a deteriorating situation.

Now there was a critical decision to be made. I only had enough toilet tissue for one wipe, so I couldn’t have any false finishes. No wiping and then realizing that there was more ammo loaded in the bomb bay, so I concentrated on making sure that there weren’t gonna be any late surprises to compound the pee pee problem. This requires a certain amount of calmness and relaxation, but at the same time the sweep second hand was counting down towards the end of the meeting break. I probably only had four or five minutes tops to finish up here and get back to the meeting room.

I was in Thailand, so I tried to enter a zen-like state were I would be completely one with the universe. Only then would I know that it was safe to wipe with the tiny white tissue, that at this moment seemed more valuable than gold. Finally I was sure. I folded the tissue carefully and cleaned myself.

A Thai person at this point might have made use of the bucket of water. I decided to make do with the single pass of the tissue. I just didn’t think I could handle the logistics of washing, and I had no idea how I’d dry if I could.

I stood up and reached for my underwear. The first trick was to get them on without contaminating them with the damp water on the bottom of my feet. I managed pretty well I think. Now the slacks. This was gonna be a bigger issue. I had peed on the floor and I didn’t want to drag my pants through that puddle, nor did I want to capture any of the poo poo splatter in the cuffs of my trousers. I decided I needed a new move… something I’d never tried before. I gathered up the legs of my pants so that they were folded like an accordion and only as long as a pair of cargo shorts. I carefully stepped into them, managing not to fall. Whew! That felt like I’d probably passed the most delicate part of the operation. But I’d underestimated the challenge that lay ahead. I had to get the socks & shoes on without fouling them in the puddle of piss or the poo splatters.

Without taking you through the painful details, I’ll tell you that I got the socks on, but before I managed to get my foot inside my shoe I stepped in the piss! D’oh!!!

In fact, to my horror, I did it with both feet. Now I had to put my piss-smelly feet into my beautiful leather shoes and walk back into the business meeting. Well, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do. The only step left was to try to clean up the mess. I grabbed the scoop and started pouring water everywhere to flush the toilet and try to wash away the pee. Needless to say, when I finished I washed my hands with soap and water several times.

I arrived back at the meeting, expecting that I would look cool as a cucumber… none the worse for the wear and tear. Instead, I arrived looking very much like I’d been through an ordeal. I was sweating profusely. My face was red. I hadn’t realized it but I was short of breath. The people in the meeting asked if I was okay. For all I know I smelled like a Belgian hooker in a leather coat with my piss-soaked socks inside my shoes.

I apologized and blamed the heat outside. I told everyone that I’d be okay after a couple of minutes in the air conditioned room. I doubt that anyone actually believed me, but this is Thailand so they all smiled and agreed. My workday ran until nearly five o’clock. Somehow during the day I forgot about the ordeal in the toilet… perhaps my subconscious just buried it from my conscious mind.

I took a taxi and a train to get home. I bought a bottle of milk at 7-11. I walked into my room and did what I do nearly every day. I took off my shoes and socks. And from 30 years of habit, wondering whether they needed to be washed or if they were fresh enough to wear again tomorrow, I held my socks to my nose and took a deep whiff.