Thursday 21 April 2011

Toilet humour

It's been a year since Tintin moved to the States, and his original visa has now expired. Since mine is tied to his, off we went back to London to reapply.

And it's been the loveliest of times. I went to my first ever real bachelorette party, and finally understood the point of those: I wouldn't have known anyone at the wedding had it not been for the bride's kind invitation to traipse around Brighton in sailor costumes with ten of her best friends. The wedding itself was magical. The next week, we got to spend time with family, and finally got to have our interview at the embassy. We arrived back in London the night before, and the hotel we were supposed to stay at was overbooked. So they chauffeured us to a better one near Hyde Park, and sent a car for us the next morning, so we didn't even have to remember where the embassy actually was. The weekend was stunning for early April, picnics in the park and long walks along the Thames, and then on Monday the visas didn't arrive.

We booked another hotel for a couple more days. Still, the visas didn't arrive. We thought of booking another hotel, but were getting tired of dragging our bags around London, and the possibility of having to extend our stays in two-day increments for up to two weeks wasn't appealing. We called friends. They took us in.

The next morning, I was having a shower when I looked across the bathroom and saw THAT:

From the wall opposite, Hitchcock was staring at me appraisingly. I nearly choked. But I loved it.

It made me think of all the bathroom weirdness that my friends seem to indulge in and for which I adore them even more. One of my favourites is a photo of Saddam Hussain surrounded by his honchos, irreverently propped up on a toilet cistern. You drop your pants, you moon them all - you get the picture.

(The least favourite was a strategically placed mirror.)

On a more general level, the thing that disturbs me the most is the strange American custom of making public restroom doors just this tiny little bit too small for their frames... And then placing the cubicles opposite the entrance... While most British restroom doors not only fit perfectly, but often have a modesty panel for extra piece of mind for those worried about their privacy. Alfred Hitchcock staring down at me is one thing. Strangers getting a glimpse in public restrooms will take some getting used to. And the strategic placement of a coat.