>Picture a restroom the size of an Ihop booth. A squat toilet in the middle, two urinals on each wall nearly touching, no privacy whatsoever. Now picture it full of people.
This is what I saw at a restaurant. I step inside, and there are guys at the urinals and a guy squatting over the middle toilet. Taking a shit.
I gasp and start to back away, but that Chinese hospitality comes into play and he points at a urinal, smiles, and waves me inside. No, it’s okay.
There’s plenty of room.
I politely shake my head while turning away and retreating back to my table. I can hold it. Later on, when I’m sure there’s no one coming or going, I return. The smell hits my nose. The sight hits my eyes.
A pile of shit covers the squat toilet. A big pile. The kind that would fill up one of our Western toilets. A dung heap that signifies the presence of a sick triceratops.
I can hold it some more.
