A major thing that our American restrooms have going for them is consistency. This is not the case in much of the world. On many occasions, I will walk into the designated.... let's call it a "toilet area," and walk right back out. Sometimes it is because I'm unsure if I've even entered the right room. There will be a random assortment of unfamiliar things and it's unclear exactly what I'm supposed to do with it all. "Done already?" someone might ask. "No, no, I think I'm going to need you to come in with me and walk me through it. I'm a bit hazy on what is supposed to happen here with all these little buckets. And is the goat part of it, or is it just in here?"

When you are in an unfamiliar land and every restroom is so very different from the last, each bowel evacuation becomes like a puzzle, a challenge. You are looking around the room like MacGyver, trying to see what you've been provided with and trying to figure out how you can cobble it all together to do what they intended.

"Well, it took me a little while," I say proudly, "but I finally figured out what I was supposed to do with all that rope!" Blanks stares, followed by "What rope?" Okay, I guess it's possible someone just accidentally left a coil of rope in there. Good to know.

Other times, I will be able to tell quite clearly what it is they had in mind for me to do, and still decide to turn back around. I'm not exactly a delicate flower, but I have my limits. I can wait.