Civilized is a relative term.

Prior to the piss shits, I had a more civilized incident. Civilized is a broad term that depends on context. For instance, ladies going to the little girls room, civilized. Move out of the way, that bitch has to shit! Not so civilized. What constitutes civilized once the gentleman’s room is placed on a train station platform in Bombay, India? Let’s begin to question this.

One week into my journey in Bombay, Francesca and I were making our way to a class meeting roughly 8 train stops away from our particular station. On the way, we saw the typical sights, like people squatting on the tracks to shit and piss, “poo river”, and other yum-yum, “make ya wanne eat taters and gravy” attractions. I hope this doesn’t change your mind about India. It’s amazing. Anyways, we finally arrive at the station. We’re looking for our class when I notice this familiar feeling. I might want to begin to look for the gentlemen’s room. We ask some Indians if they have seen any white people recently when I get this feeling. I should be looking for the gentlemen’s room. We wonder back to the platform and we begin searching for our classmates. I need to find the gentlemen’s room. As we’re waiting, I realize this feeling has turned into pain. This pain is turning into the Devil, and the Devil don’t want me no more. Sweat begins rolling down my face and I feel the demon itching to escape. I don’t speak Hindi, but I am fluent in “I’m about to shit my pants.” Apparently the lady security guard was also fluent in, I’m about to shit my pants,” because she pointed me to the “Gentlemen’s Room.” I use the term, Gentlemen’s Room, loosely. I’m maneuvering myself to the bathroom in flustered duck mode. You try to run, but you must apply pressure to the ass cheeks to prevent any early evacuations by the devil, flustered duck mode. I waddle past a man in the doorway and find the royal throne…or not so much. A squat pot is no royal throne, but when the devil’s gotcha, it’s like God’s flashlight showing you the way. I unfasten myself, squat down…DEVIL OUT!!!

Problem # 2. This is where I separate myself from my western ways. After finishing, I realize, I’m not finished. I am soiled, therefore I must clean. I look to my left, then I look to my right. Fuck. Where do they keep the toilet paper, I ask. Why is there a small plastic bucket under a water faucet, I ask. How in the hell am I supposed to wipe my shitty ass, I ask. It is at this particular moment in time when I am faced with a dilemma. I may sacrifice one of 4 pairs of underwear (I have no socks because I’m in sandals), or go native. Allow me to spell this out for you western folk. Going native is short for…using my hand to turn the poo faucet on to fill the bucket, you then place your poo hand into the poo water and wipe your poo ass with your hand repeatedly until your ass is clean. I still own all 4 pairs of my underwear. That’s right, I went native. Once you go native with a poohole explosion, you then fully understand why Asians don’t shake hands with their left hand.

So, I ask the question. What is civilized? Is it pooping in a bathroom, or not wiping with your hand?