Don’t laugh, I’m the proud owner of a bidet
My friend didn’t believe me.
We sat at our departure gate. With our backs to the taxing planes, we watched fellow travelers rush by instead. People are more interesting.
“You bought a what?”
“Like the thing that cleans your ass?”
“Yeah, it attaches under the toilet seat and hooks up to the water supply. It was only thirty bucks.”
An elderly lady leaned over and asked if I could help her open a bottle of juice. I obliged and turned back to my friend.
“Do you think if the plane is full and we can’t sit next to each other that this old lady will give up her seat? Is opening a bottle of juice a fair trade for a plane seat?” I whispered.
“I don’t know. I still can’t believe you bought a bidet. It’s so… posh.”
“It’s better for the environment!…” The intercom cackled above to tell us our flight to London would board in 10 minutes.
London. Bidet heaven. Europeans love bidets. Americans don’t seem to understand.
“Does it hurt?” my friend asked.
“At first, yes. It was weird. But you get used to it.”
“And it cleans…everything?”
“It’s not like a gentle water fountain. Imagine someone aiming a Super Soaker at your ass. It get’s the job done.”
My friend shook his head in disbelief.
“Are you soaking wet after?”
“Listen, it’s simple. When you’re done shitting you turn a nob to your desired pressure setting. A nozzle pokes out and pounds your ass with water. About 0.8 gallons worth which is a lot less water needed to produce a roll of toilet paper. When you’re done, you turn it off and sit for a moment so gravity can help you dry off. Then you grab a few squares of TP and pat yourself dry. Boom, clean. Just like you stepped out of the shower.”
I needed to go to the bathroom, but my pampered anus couldn’t tolerate cheap toilet paper anymore.
“And it was only thirty bucks?”
“The best thirty bucks I’ve ever spent.”
I popped a Pepto tablet and decided to hold it. I could save the deed for later, save it for a country that understands.