Tuesday, July 24, 2007

It's not my bag, baby!

I did not take this picture. Instead, I googled "bag of urine". Yes, people have captured plenty of bags of urine on film. Now that I look back on it, I wish that I would have photographed my bag of urine. Unfortunately, my camera was broken at the time.

My sister and I had been walking in the rain from Harajuku all the way to Otemosando when we figured that we better take a rest, look at our Tokyo map again, and hit the Toire. So I found the bathroom and rushed inside the stall, and sighed at presence of a pee-riddled squatty. I mean, we were in this super posh shopping district that had 2 story shops dedicated to 5 outfits and a pair of boots, yet all they provided were squatties? So as I fumbled inside the stall with my backpack, shopping bags, umbrella, and whatever else was hanging from my appendages I looked around for hooks to hang my stuff on, all the while pulling at skirt ready to pee. (I had been holding it for awhile)I was able to rest one of my small shoulder bags atop of a little trash pail in the back corner of the stall.

As I balanced above the hole while holding my bags above the floor as to not touch any urine, I successfully kept the bags, my skirt, and my butt from touching any of the affected areas. (At least that's how I'll portray it in my written account) As quickly as I went in, I rushed out. I gathered my stuff, unlocked the door and headed toward Cynthia at the sink, ready to complain about having to use a squatty while she lucked out getting the western toilet right next to it. As I approached Cynthia, washing her hands at the sink, I noticed a look of confusion on her face. "What's that?" Now she must have seen my puzzlement in the mirror's reflection because she turned around and pointed to the clear plastic bag hanging from my hand.

I looked down. I was holding a small clear bag half-way filled with yellow liquid. I must have had on some disgusted look on my face, or perhaps I had shouted an obscenity because after that, Cynthia was laughing hysterically as I held it like one would hold a stinky diaper, running around trying to find a place to put it down. From what I can gather, i must have picked it up from the bathroom stall thinking that it was one of my bags without noticing.

It wasn't until 4 days later, while we rode the train back to Nagoya International Airport that Cynthia brought up the incident again. We laughed, of course, but then began to question why had there been a bag of pee left behind in this Tokyo bathroom stall.

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