9/5/10

It has been many years since I’ve been able to recall my most embarrassing moment. I expected living here there would be many times I would feel humiliated. I expected humiliation whey trying to speak a new language, standing in front of a classroom in attempt to teaching through a puddle of nervous sweat, or accidentally committing a cultural ‘faux paux.’ I didn’t expect all my embarrassing moments in Japan so far, to involve the bathroom.

Today just so happens to be the day that goes down in history as my most embarrassing moment…thus far.

It was my last day of training and the night of the departing teacher’s Farewell Party. Everyone was rushed to go to the Pub for drinks and dinner. I was behind in getting my materials together and the staff and students were eagerly awaiting the party. I didn’t want to make others late, so I quickly threw my teaching tools in my bag and rushed to meet the others. I really had to go to the bathroom, but I knew the bar wasn’t far, so I decided to wait until I get there.

As soon as we arrived, I rushed to the bathroom. Such sweet relief! Because Japanese toilets are so high tech, I was surprised it didn’t flush before I stood up.  I tried standing then sitting, standing then sitting. Opening then closing the lid. Nothing seemed to work. The toilet wasn’t flushing. I knew from experience which buttons were designated for ‘cleaning’ so I didn’t want to try that again. The only button I saw that could possibly be a flush was a burnt orange button on the right hand side of the wall, labeled, of course, in Japanese. It was the only button without a picture to demonstrate its purpose. Not wanting to leave a gift for the next person and assuming this must be the flusher, I pulled up my pants and pushed the button. Just then, a loud alarm went off. Think, fire drill.

Yes, I pushed the emergency button that triggered a bathroom alarm. To make things worse, the sound of the alarm bled through the entire front hallway and into the entrance of the pub. “Is this really necessary?” I thought. “An emergency button by the toilet?!” Turning bright red, I ran past people standing in the hallway who were looking at the flashing orange lights with a blank stare wondering what the alarm was for. Of course the flashing lights would match the color of the button I pushed. Even emergencies have fashion sense in Japan.

I sped walked into the pub to find someone who could help me explain to the staff what happened. I didn’t want to draw more attention to myself by running into the bar like an obnoxious American yelling, “Excuse me! My poo is a sudden cause for an emergency evacuation!” For a split second, I seriously contemplated pretending I had no idea what was going on, but being afraid they would evacuate the building made me rethink pleading the fifth.

I found a coworker I had connected with earlier and told her about my problem. She laughed at me and walked with me to the bartender to explain in Japanese why the alarm was going off. He looked at her, then toward me and giggled. The only way I can think to describe Japanese laughter is to call it ‘a very loud giggle.’ I am getting very accustomed to this giggle.

The bartender then turns to his coworker and tells him in Japanese what happened. They giggle loudly together. The waitress hears what he says… well, you know what’s next…they all giggle together and then look at me, speaking in Japanese to each other. Now beet red, I attempt to justify why one could easily make the mistake of pushing the orange button, positioned on the right side of the toilet, NOT knowing it was for emergencies. Then I stopped mid defense, realizing they weren’t listening to me over their loud giggle. The bartender said he would make sure someone would go into the bathroom to check things out. “Great,’ I thought. “Here’s a gift from me to you. With love, xoxo.”

Later, I realized there is no flush button. To flush, you wave your hand over a sensor by the toilet paper. The picture of the big hand waving wasn’t enough of a clue for me? Who’d have thought?