Another "My Life is a Movie" Moment

So I've recently decided on a good idea for a book that I will never write. The title would be something like "My Life is a Movie" only more whitty and original and the book would contain a series of short non-fiction stories of my life's experiences. My most recent addition happened Saturday afternoon.

I was in Outback Steakhouse with some girlfriends (please ignore the comment from a previous entry that I never go to Outback), we stopped for some early evening refreshments of a pitcher of "Wallabe-darned", and some cheese fries. It seemed like the perfect health snack after our hike up to Seoul tower. Anyway as I stood up to visit the ladies room I was told by Nikki to check out the bidet. An image of an old-fashioned French style bidet that is separate from the toilet was in my mind but was very different from what I encountered in the stall. The toilet looked very much like an ordinary toilet except there was a small box with a number of buttons attached to the right hand side of the bowl. There were pictures with some English translations written on stickers below. I examined each sticker carefully. The top two said "clean" and "dry" and the bottom two "stop" and something else. Having been in one of these fancy dan restrooms before I knew that the "clean" button meant that the toilet seat would rotate on the bowl and be cleaned and squeegied by a little mechanical arm so that it was nice and fresh to receive my goods. I leaned over the toilet to push the appropriate button and stood back to watch the magic take place. Well much to my surprise and disgust instead of a rotating toilet seat I got a squirt of water from somewhere within the toilet bowl directly in my face. I quickly flattened myself against the side of the stall as the stream of water continued to shoot out of the toilet and soak the picture of the "bloomin' onion" on the stall door. Evidently this was the bidet that I had been warned about. I thought that the stream would stop after a couple of seconds, but as the puddle on the floor continued to grow I realized that this was not the case and that I would have to duck beneath the stream to press the "stop" button.

Jennifer went in later and overheard some women surmising that some kids must have been fooling around with the buttons. Close ladies...very close.