Pooh-la-la

I was in Paris for work and decided to extend my stay. I sometimes do this when I work overseas. If I have taken all this time and effort to get to the destination, where I can, I leverage the occasion and have a holiday.

I always save time for Paris, for each time I visit, I discover something new. Fashion, trends, new stores, new suburbs or a boulangerie that I absolutely must try. Or, I find little café and sit for an hour or two and watch life go by. There is never a dull moment in the city of love.

This time however, I was on a mission to visit some high-end venues in Paris that had been recommended to me for potential events. I get excited about seeing these grand old buildings in Europe. The history and the stories that have taken place inside them over the centuries is something that always gets my imagination going.  

Today I was going to see the renowned Hotel Le Meurice on Rue de Rivoli, an iconic luxury hotel.

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A spot of lunch

As I set out on my day, I went for quite a long meander around Trocadero, the arrondissement across the Seine from the Eiffel Tower. I really enjoy this corner of Paris as it has breathtaking views of the iconic tower and a melange of architecture that beautifully blends the old with the new.

I didn’t realise how long I had been walking for so I stopped for lunch at a café with views of the Eiffel Tower, sitting outside on a very typical looking French bistro with little round tables and cane chairs. 

I ordered Carbonara pasta which was unusual as I prefer tomato based sauces, but I had a hankering for Carbonara this day.  It came with a raw egg on top.  I had not seen this before, and I am not really a raw egg fan, but I stirred it in and began to eat, observing my fellow diners and passers-by as they went about their day.

Time to get cracking

I had to get going if I was to achieve my activity of the day, which was about five metro stations away. As an event manager, I was excited about touring this grand hotel after visiting the likes of George V and the Grand Hotel Four Seasons the day before.

I jumped out of the metro at Tuileries – which is next to The Tuileries Gardens, very much worth a look when you are next in Paris. These gardens separate the Place de la Concord from the Louvre and are a flurry of activity all year round.  

Um this is unexpected…

As I exit the metro, I suddenly felt a rather urgent need to go to the toilet. I could hear gurgling noises from my belly and felt internal air pockets popping all over the place. This was really unusual, but I knew instantly that I needed to get to a loo, and fast.

But – where could I go?

Here I am standing on a footpath in the middle of Paris with gorgeous gardens to my left where police are meandering on horseback amongst the throng of visitors, and the nearest entrance to the gardens is half a block away, (most unhelpful). In this part of Paris, rest rooms generally have long tourist lines and you have to pay for the loo or at least, leave a tip. I didn’t have the time nor the inclination to do either.

To my right stood a glorious row of typical Parisian buildings that stretched as far as the eye could see, and in that myriad of architecture was the hotel I needed to get to. But where was it and where is a darn pedestrian crossing to help me get to the other side of the road?

Get to the lights

Then I see them… some traffic lights about 100m away, and I assume there is a crossing to help the situation.

I start walking as fast as I could toward the lights, but it soon dawned on me that walking fast, or indeed any movement at all, wasn’t going to be possible without… well… without the threat of something escaping!  Because once it starts….. (Oh God!)

I had to stop walking three times in quick succession and I still wasn’t anywhere near the lights. Determined to proceed, I squeezed my butt cheeks and thighs together as hard as I could and tried to keep going. The situation was getting more and more urgent. I could feel it all moving inside and the noises were getting worse.

Just an aside…

Did I mention I was wearing white pants?  And a G-string?

Can you see why I needed to get to a rest room quick smart?

Find good technique

Let me just say that walking with your butt cheeks squeezed and your legs squished together is extremely uncomfortable. Not only does it make you look like a straight legged idiot – it actually does not help get you to your destination with any great speed. What to do, what to do?

I had to stop and hold onto the nearest lamp post by this time. I was getting all hot and sweaty and my eyes had started watering.  This was not looking good and I could hear myself cursing Shit, Shit Shit…. literally.

Desperate Times

I decided I couldn’t make it to the lights and I had to cross the road right here if I was to make any progress. Looking both ways, it was pretty busy so I waited for the slightest break in traffic on my side of the road. Then with those awkwardly straight legs I somehow got myself to the middle of the road and realised there was a barrage of cars coming in the other direction. Merde!!!

I was stuck, and things were really starting to move with fluffs now emanating from the rear, coming thick and fast. A chill speed up my very hot and sweaty spine. I literally could not stop fluffing.

Oh God, it’s starting. 

Please … please do not let me poop my pants in the middle of this very posh street in Paris.  

Remember that scene?

At this point in time, the movie Bridesmaids flashed across my brain. You know the scene where the bride runs out of the shop in a wedding dress in desperate search of a bathroom … and doesn’t quite make it to the other side of the road… YUH. Not helpful.

Sliver of hope

There was the smallest of breaks coming in the traffic, so I stuck my hand out, yelled ‘désolée’ (sorry), and weaved my way across the road, ignoring the honks and returned hand gestures that were coming my way. I was on a mission – the gurgling was getting louder and sharp gut pain was starting to set in.

Finally making it to the other side, I realised I was about 15 buildings away from the hotel. Looking furiously up at the rising street numbers as I sought my destination, I was surprised that I arrived faster than anticipated to Hotel Le Meurice. Thank God.

Finally here

I pushed my way through the rotunda doors and quickly found the concierge desk.

Pulling myself together (trying not to look like a drowned duck) I politely asked for the rest rooms and was (quite rudely) directed down the hotel corridor to the left.

After a few steps I was forced to stop once again and tighten my whole body, and just hope upon hope that I could hold it in for a few more seconds. I was not going to let it defeat me. Not here, not in these pants, or in the foyer of this majestic luxury hotel.

Home stretch – or not!

I gingerly proceed toward my holy grail and was somehow able to pick up pace when, out of absolutely nowhere, two older ladies cut right in front of me. Seriously, where the hell did they come from? WTF?????

These well-coiffed women were walking SO SLOWLY and having a wonderful conversation about how lovely the hotel was. One of them SLOWED DOWN to point out the décor and stated to her friend that ‘This is just like being in LADURÉE’.  

I on the other hand didn’t give a flying frog about LADURÉE and was secretly wishing they would vanish into thin air. I was in pain and starting to get very hot and very, very sweaty. I believe I even started groaning at this point!  

You cannot be serious

Then to my absolute horror, and almost in slow motion, the ladies started to turn left and head toward ladies room.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

(now say this again in slow motion, just like the movies).

Are you kidding me? Did I walk under a ladder recently? Kill a black cat? What did I do to deserve this grey-haired speed hump interruption?

Turns out the toilet door was too heavy for the ladies to open easily, so I stepped in and somehow opened it for them and let them pass. (Who knows what they thought of this red faced, sweaty lady who came from nowhere). Strangely, the door felt light as a feather to me.

I waited at the door to see which cubicles they went into because I needed to get as far away from them as I could. Thankfully they went to the first couple of doors which left the end of the room at my disposal. I literally started undoing my pants as they closed their doors and practically had my undies at my knees as I entered my cubicle.

Salvation

I closed the door and didn’t even bother to lock it…… and then…….

Bsssssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I was clinging onto the toilet walls at this stage.

And it kept coming.

Bssssssssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Sorry I just need to pause here, even writing this story makes my heart race!

I cannot tell you the instant relief that came over me despite the horrid noises, explosions and absolute bombardment I was wreaking on this poor toilet. It went for a while.

And then, the calm after the storm. I slumped over on the seat and could finally relax, slowly releasing all the tension and tightening that had saved me to this point.

I made it! That’s all I could think of. I made it and I didn’t poop my pants in public.

By this stage there was a pool of water under my eyes, my whole body was at about ten degrees hotter and I was sweaty all over. I dabbed some toilet paper onto my face and it stuck, so I decided to leave it there. Then I put more loo paper across my whole face and under my arm pits to help absorb the ‘sparkle’ that kept coming for a while. What a sight I must have been.

Those poor ladies

As I sat there, I realised the dear old ladies were still in the room, no doubt completely shocked at what they had heard. I felt so bad for them, this is not what they were expecting to hear on their ‘LADURÉE-esque’ trip to the toilet.

However, there was no way I was leaving this cubicle with anyone in the room, so I took my time and tried to cool my body down before I went anywhere.

I can honestly say that (up until that point in my life) I had not experienced anything like this. The pure desperation to find a toilet and not embarrass myself in pubic was quite a feat, and filled me with absolute dread.

Time to recompose myself

After about 15 minutes, when no one else was in the rest room, I was brave enough to leave my cubicle. I washed my face with cold water, re-did my hair and dried my shirt under the hand dryer whist still wearing it.

Holding my breath, I turned around to check the back of these dreaded white pants. To my absolute relief there were no stains, they were still pristine white – I have no idea how, but I didn’t care. I could walk out in public and be ok.

I reflected back to all the well-mannered, well-dressed, well-everything ladies over the decades that have used these facilities and thought how I had sadly let the team down. There was no imagination needed here today folks. None whatsoever, it was all as clear as day.

Putting those thoughts aside, I readied myself to face the world again.

Leaving the safety of the marble clad, chandelier lit ladies room, I decided I no longer wanted to do a site inspection of Hotel Le Meurice. I had seen all I needed to see of her grand rooms and wanted to exit ASAP.

So I stood tall and promptly made a bee line for the front door, past the rude concierge (picked up a brochure) and took a long walk around those pretty gardens across the road.

Travel is the (most embarrassing) best.