Flushed

The Flush-an American turd in France


Lost in Carcassonne after a 40km bike ride we stop at the train station trying to get our bearings. I need to "faire le pi pi."

I follow the signs for the bathrooms, which turns out to be n 8 by 8 by 8 aluminum box on the farthest end of the station proper. And it requires money, no less. Having no change on me I figure I can hold it. In the meantime, Sandra has obtained a city map and figured out a route to our hotel. She also has the correct change for the bathroom, so I decide to try again . I find my way back to said aluminum box and knock on the door. No reply. Coast is clear, right?So I put in my E 0.30 euros at which point a guy inside makes his presence known. He leaves and So I figure I can use the box.

First surprise: there is no commode. Second: shower jets at floor level start spraying from all directions while I am doing the Aztec two step. Third: the lights go out-at which point I decide to leave. Piece de resistance: the door is locked ! I feel like I am about to be flushed into the Aude river with all the other turds. You know that nightmare you have as a kid about being flushed down the toilet? This is it!!!

I start banging and kicking on the door and yelling in my best French approximation of "Get me the @$!/out of here!" After a minute of sheer panic, I am released by a very indignant functionary of the French railway system, who acts as if I've violated some sacred trust. The irony of it is that the guy who belatedly informed me he'd been in Le Box was also a railway functionary. You'd think he might have warned me of what was about to transpire.

At this point, I was in no mood to explain myself to some third rate bureaucrat in broken Franglais. I bid him a good day and left him to simmer in his Gallic self righteousness.