Panic in the WC

I heard her scream from behind the metal door.

“OH NO! Bonnie, quick open the door!”

I pushed forward between my two companions and reached for the handle. As I did, the door swung open, and out stumbled Mae.

“What happened?” I asked, grabbing her arms.

“I don’t know. All of a sudden the toilet lid started to move and the lights went out. Then water started flooding in all over the floor.”

Her pants were soaked all the way to her knees. We didn’t want to think about what substance had drenched them.

Public toilets in Europe are not pleasant. Often there is a fee. They are difficult to find, and when you do they are boobie-trapped.

Or so it would seem.

France is worse than Italy; in France these facilities seem almost non-existent. In Italy, finding a WC is a bit easier, but for some reason they are always “Closed for cleaning.”

The toilet that attacked Mae was in France, one of the modern-modulars, with an automatic cleaning system and push-button EXIT. They don’t warn you, however, that the cleaning system could go into cleaning mode at random moments. When they do and the lights go out, you can’t find the exit button to open the door.

Mae escaped without injury, but not without a little humiliation.