Japanese Potties

I can't believe I have let so much time go by without brightening your lives and your minds with another exotic tale... or tail, as the case may be. My sister, Adrian, is back in Japan, which has become a second home for her. She spends many months out of the year working there, and has grown to really love it. I spent a month in Japan a few years ago, and I also loved it. She sent this picture today, which reminded me of a priceless experience I had one evening in Osaka.

Toilet Control Panel

There are some really great things about Japanese rest rooms: some have a "privacy flush" which plays a recorded flushing sound so one might cover the sound of one's own tinkle, but conserve water at the same time (great for those who get stage fright in public rest rooms). They also have heated seats to avoid "frozen buns," and of course there is the bidet. Many, many toilets come with a full control panel like the one seen above. This is obviously a "bi" toilet as it is labelled in both english and kanji. My experience happened at the home of the Ito family where I was staying with my friend Kelly. I had excused myself to go to the restroom, something I have been fairly adept at doing on my own for roughly 28 years. Well, I found myself in a veritable captain's chair of a throne, with arm rests on either side and what looked like hundreds of buttons-- all in Japanese kanji. It did have what I assumed were helpful illustrations, but when I was ready to depart, I found myself in a bind. I hit what I thought was the flush button. This was, apparently, the "spritzer" button. I could adjust for temperature and intensity, but could not turn it off. I couldn't stand up, or it began to spray a fountain of water into the air. I desperately began pushing buttons trying to turn the rotating stream of water off so that I could at least stand up without spraying down the whole bathroom. The toilet went through all sorts of fancy maneuvers, heating and cooling, vibrating, playing music, making privacy flush sounds, baking bread.... But the stream of cleansing liquid would not turn off. I then did the logical thing... I got hysterical--laughing, that is. Japanese bathroom, pants around my ankles, very clean tushy hysterical. This caused Kelly to come to the door to see what in the world was going on, she having heard dozens of flushing sounds but had yet to see me emerge. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I had apparently used the whole water supply of the city of Osaka and the Toilet of Doom finally went into hibernation. It was a memorable experience, to say the least. I have never felt so, well, clean. Some days, I find myself missing my Japanese Captains Chair. Like those early mornings in a nameless campground somewhere where the ice cold seat leads to nothing but a bottomless pit... Then I wish for a fancy seat. Butt for the most part, I find myself content with a plain old porcelain potty.
I was relieved (ha ha) to find this little story, proving that I am NOT the only one who had a cleansing encounter in Japan.