Bathroom Humor

There is a little game I play with myself every time I am confronted with a new bathroom in Paris. It is not a game I have elected to play, rather one that I have been enlisted in against my will like a captive babysitter. I call this game “Find the light switch” and its objective should be easily deduced. “Find the light switch” is a game of few rules. In fact, there are only two: be alert and don’t panic.

It is in strategy where the intricacies and complications of the game lie. When approaching a foreign bathroom, one must always have a plan. (A spontaneous descent upon the bathroom will surely result in failure or, even worse, embarrassment.) I have found that it is best to feign confidence when making my initial approach, so as to discourage rubbernecking. “There is nothing to see here,” says my casual gait.

When greeted by a dark interior, anticipation is key. I am ready for any possible incarnation of the idea of “light switch.” It may be something that I flip, turn, pull or step on. (The same is true for the door latch, the toilet flush and the water faucet, but I don’t even want to go there.)
Opening the door to an already lit bathroom does not relieve you from the responsibility of ascertaining the whereabouts of the light switch. It was not the act of a well-wishing do-gooder that has left the bathroom is this brilliant state, but a mechanism of deceit. In this case, the light switch probably operates on a timer and if you let it go undiscovered, moments later you may find yourself beneath the shadow of an ignorant darkness in a most vulnerable position. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I begin my quest for light switch by checking all the places where one would traditionally find a light switch in a bathroom in the States. This is purely a formality just to get the ball rolling. I look to the wall adjacent to the door, for example. If my search ends here I call it a “freebie.”
In most cases the light switch will be too elusive to occupy such an obvious location beside the door and I turn my gaze elsewhere. I look to the ceiling and then to the floor. I scan all exposed surfaces. It is not a bad idea to check the wall outside the bathroom, but this should be done using the peripheral vision with limited body movement so as not to call attention to the farce I am carrying on.

If by this point, I still haven’t managed to illuminate the bathroom I examine the light fixture itself, hoping to find a chain to pull or a something to toggle. The most important thing is to observe the second rule of the game and stay calm.

Following these steps has helped me find even the most nefarious of light switches—the ones disguised beneath mirrors or behind soap dispensers. When the light goes on, I have beaten the game and like a video game addict who has just liberated the princess from the castle, I revel in my victory in solitary relief.