Trains (part 3) Of Trains and Toilets

Having missed my train (read about it here in part 2) I quickly made my way to one of the ticket booths. To my great relief, the lady working there was able to speak a smattering of English. I told her my tale of woe and she offered me a ticket for a train leaving an hour later - unfortunately, as there were no empty seats, I had to settle for standing room only. I did so gladly. There was even a partial refund, which struck me as rather serendipitous, given the misfortune I had suffered up until this point.

Needless to say, I was in the queue for the next train a full thirty minutes before the gate opened - in fact, I was the first person on the train. There was no way I was missing this one! I found myself a spot on the floor behind the last seats in the carriage and made myself as comfortable as I could for the one-hour journey that lay ahead. It wasn't long before my spot became rather crowded as more and more "standing" passengers entered the train, reminding me of a Johannesburg mini-bus taxi, which always has room for one more.

About 40 minutes into the journey, I needed to use the bathroom. Squeezing my way through my fellow standing passengers, I came to what could only be the toilet cubicle, given that it had the universal toilet sign on the outside.

I should add at this point, that the train was a fairly high tech one. It was travelling silently and smoothly at 170km per hour. The seats, for those who had them, were plush and comfortable with arm- and head rests. The seats could even recline, and some people were sleeping and dozing comfortably. The toilet cubicle looked like something on the USS Enterprise. The outside of the cubicle was built into a corner of the carriage, with a smooth, half rounded steel-with-faux-wood, sliding door. The problem with it was that it had no discernible handle, and as I stood outside the door, I could see no way to open it.

I need to explain that I have a unique super-power. I have the ability to make inanimate objects shapeshift. I'm still working on honing this super-power so that I can use it for good. At the moment, unfortunately, I am still unable to control this power and direct it at specific objects. It kind of kicks in by itself causing things around me to shapeshift without me being aware of it. For instance, I'll go into the kitchen to fetch the kitchen scissors. Of course, they won't be in their designated place in the top drawer - with a wife and 3 kids sharing the same house, that's asking for too much. So I'll start looking for the scissors, opening every drawer and cupboard and getting more and more frustrated. Then when I'm about ready to start ripping doors off their hinges, Trish will come in and casually lean past me and pick the scissors up off the kitchen counter - in the very spot where I had looked for them at least 15 times in the last 5 minutes. The only explanation for this phenomenon, and its not limited to kitchen scissors, is that things shapeshift around me, thus rendering them totally invisible to me, until pointed out by someone else. I think it is a hereditary power, passed down from fathers to sons, because Jonty has exactly the same super-power - his shapeshifting powers appear to be even stronger than mine, because I'm often able to find things he can't.

Anyway, I tell you this story, because at that moment, on that train in China, the button which opened the toilet cubicle had obviously shapeshifted and had become invisible to me. I looked for it everywhere. I stared at the door and focused as hard as I could, but I could not see it. I felt around the edges of the door. I tapped on the door and on the wall around the door like Indiana Jones trying to find a secret panel. All to no avail. Finally, in desperation, I resorted to the one thing that man always resorts to when all other options have been exhausted - force. I figured that there was no handle, no button, no slick high-tech toilet door opening device. So I placed my palms flat on the door and tried to manually slide it open. I swear it was starting to budge, when someone in the crowd of bemused onlookers took pity on me, stepped forward, reached around behind me and pressed a silver button on the wall, which was there, as plain as the nose on my face. The door slid open with a hiss.

In a desperate attempt to hide my embarrassment and get out of the public gaze, I bolted into the toilet cubicle and pushed a similar button on the inside of the cubicle. Mercifully, the door shut without any further problems.

Or so I thought...

Where is the handle/button/lever to flush a toilet normally? Behind the toilet, right? Apparently not! I looked on the wall behind the toilet, but there was nothing there. Oh no - not more shapeshifting!! Ah ha! Not this time! There it was! A big red button on the wall next to the toilet. With a sense of accomplishment in having found the stupidly located flush-button, I reached down and pressed it. But instead of the sound of water flushing into the toilet bowl, my ears were filled with the warble of a very loud and piercing alarm. Once I recovered sufficiently from the shock, I peered at the red button and saw to my horror that it was an emergency button. As I was scrabbling around on the floor trying to pick up my jaw, I saw a large pedal on the floor at the base of the toilet - a foot operated flusher! Who would have thought?

Scraping together the tattered remains of my dignity I left the toilet cubicle - obviously everyone was staring, including those who had been napping peacefully in their plush reclining seats. As nonchalantly as I could, I turned and looked behind me and shrugged my shoulders, as if to say "what's that noise? - t'wasn't me!"

Its a good thing there wasn't a real emergency with some hapless soul stuck in the toilet, because none of the train crew came to see what was wrong or reset the alarm. For the remaining 20 minutes of the journey we were all treated to the not-so-soothing sound of the wailing, warbling alarm, and I tried very hard not to feel that it was all my fault. It was quite a relief when we finally slid into the station and I could make my escape.

The good news, despite my eventful morning, is that I made it to my appointment with 2 minutes to spare:-)

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