It’s a hole. It’s a hole in the ground,” I shouted through the door to my sister who was patiently waiting her turn.
“We talked about this. You can do it,” she said.
It had been many years since I’d needed encouragement in the bathroom, but I felt her support through the door. I stood in the small water closet, circling my prey, debating how best to attack.
My sister, Tracy, had warned me about these so-called toilets before I arrived in Italy for the first time. I thought it was a sisterly joke, designed to scare me into packing only skirts and dresses for the trip. I knew of no other travelers who had come face-to-face with one, and my guidebook made no mention of it. Tracy wasn’t going to get her laughs at my expense…