New Series: Bathrooms I Have Known and Loathed (BIHKAL)

They go by many names: bathroom, washroom, restroom, even the austere "W.C." Call them what you will, they all have the potential to spell out one thing: bowel-quivering terror! In keeping with an earlier promise, I have decided begin an N-part series, titled "Bathrooms I Have Known and Loathed," devoted to certain facilities whose horrors are boundless. Each part in the series provides an in-depth account of my experiences in the hellish depths of the world's most vile restrooms. These are places where the laws of time begin to blur, Lovecraftian settings that, by all rational reckoning should not be.

Shortly, I shall post the details of a foul encounter that sets the mood for our tour of horror. Before I do that, however, some background. Before moving to Canada for graduate school, I briefly visited my girlfriend in Toronto. I was amazed at the general cleanliness of the city, especially considering its size. During this visit, I (unfortunately) developed a theory that partially explains the urban anomoly that is Toronto. The post which follows details the experience that inspired this theory (apologies to those who have already read this in an early form...by now you should be familiar with the shameless recycling of old material that I tend to pass off as actual creation).