Adventures on a Cambodian Toilet

After eating today, I had to use the toilet badly, which happens sometimes.  It was late and I had a long walk home.  There’s no seat on the toilet in my room so I went directly to the hall toilet upstairs, only to discover that there’s newly no seat on that toilet, either.

There’s a toilet in the bar, so I went there.  That had a seat, but no toilet paper.  So I retrieved a roll from my room, locked myself in the bathroom, cleaned the seat — an important step — and within a minute there was someone pounding on the door.

“Yo!” I yelled.

He pounded again.  “YO!” I yelled.  Some loud-mouthed bar boy, I figured.

When he pounded the third time, I yelled, “Use the one upstairs!”  Then my natural sound effects took over, and I didn’t hear anything until I was almost done.

As I was wrapping up, there was an impatient knock again.  This one I ignored. 

I packed my toilet paper into my backpack and figured I’d give the bar boy a run for his money.  These guys think they’re pimps.  I shot the bolt and whipped the door open, stepping immediately right up to the threshhold, finding myself eye to eye with…

…a cop.  Or eye to nipple, in this case; I’m taller than most Khmer.

Was he a real cop?  If the English on his slightly shabby Boy-Scout quality uniform was to be believed, then yes.  He was a real cop.  He was not a security guard.

While I was looking him over, he was looking me over.  I said, emphatically but with no aggression — in a kind of a shrug — “Hey, I haven’t been in here long.  I don’t know what you want from me.”

He turned around and walked away.  I could see him switching down his tazer and holstering his gun.  He walked off into the bar area with the worried owner of the place, looking for his bad guy.

And I wasn’t even drunk; I was just looking for a toilet.

Published in: Uncategorized on December 7, 2009 at 9:28 pm  Leave a Comment  
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