Sometimes you have to pay to pee.
I was warned of pay-toilets before I left for England, but for some reason it still caught me off guard when I walked up to a bathroom in a local park, only to discover that the door would not open, even though the green light above indicated the bathroom was available. For a second I was confused. Was I trying to walk in on someone who was still in the rest room? I looked up again, and sure enough the green light was on. I pulled on the door handle again but it still it would not open.
That's when I realized I needed to insert 20 pence before I could use the facilities.
Here it was: my first pay-toilet experience.
I rummaged through my wallet and pulled out two 10 pence coins and inserted them into the slot. The door was then free to open and I rushed in, afraid that if I didn't move quick enough the door would lock itself again and I would then be out 40 pence.
The outside of the bathroom was rather deceiving. I expected to walk into an open area with one toilet, sink, mirror, and perhaps either a hand dryer or paper towels, especially since I had to pay for it. What I discovered instead was something similar to portable toilets back home, only this was slightly cleaner and a bit nicer looking.
I was a little disappointed to discover I had just paid to use a "porta potty."
What I didn't realize was this was a little more complicated than your typical outhouse. For starters, the toilet seat was flipped up instead of down. At first I thought I had to touch the toilet seat in order to pull it town, and I was beyond repulsed.
Fortunately I discovered the handle attached to the seat before doing so. I pulled the seat down, expecting it to stay there. Instead it flipped back up and the toilet flushed. I panicked for a moment. Was the bathroom going to unlock itself now that it thinks that I already used the rest room? I looked around and realized it was still locked, and found a sign that said you had twenty minutes to use the facilities before the bathroom would unlock itself. How odd; a toilet you had to pay for and came with a time limit.
The second time I readied myself, used the rest room and prepared to leave, relieved I had been able to figure it out. Instead, as I was getting ready to leave I discovered a button that said, "wash hands." I pushed it, and out came clean water, shooting over the toilet for me to rinse my hands in. I found no soap, and half wondered if there was any sort of anti-bacterial stuff in the water.
Then as soon as the water stopped a little vent above came on for me to dry my hands. I was impressed. The English had discovered a way to put all the necessities of a bathroom into the quarters of an outhouse.
I walked outside and was embarrassed to see a woman standing there waiting. I wondered if I had taken too long. I then realized the other bathroom was open; she was just waiting for me to come out so she wouldn't have to pay. How clever.
Of course, it was only five minutes later that I discovered a McDonald's. I rewashed my hands, with soap, in its free rest rooms. I am grateful that in America we don't have to pay to use the rest room. But I will say it was well worth my 20 pence, just for the experience.
Laura Allen is a journalism major studying in England this summer and writes ‘From Abroad,' a series of guest columns from Ball State students about their experiences studying abroad. Her views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper. Write to Laura at lrallen@bsu.edu.