A Little Toilet Humor

Nobody minds a little toilet humor every now and then -- except for some of my high school friends who have dedicated their lives to it.

In any case, the title for this edition’s Japan Times humor column redux is: “A Little Toilet Humor.”

Here is a keener truth: Nobody appreciates quality toilets like the Japanese.

You will note that “toilets” have not entered into the current export/import imbroglio between Japan and the US, nor will they.

Japan might lower trade sanctions to allow in products like cars, ethanol and jelly beans, but they will draw the line at bidets.

Why? Because theirs are better, that’s why. Japanese are patient people, but only from the waist up.

Ask a Japanese traveler what was best about any sojourn abroad and you will receive a variety of responses. Ask what was worst and you'll get but one: the T word.

It hasn’t always been this way. Graybirds like myself can well recall the pit toilet hell holes of Japan’s yesteryear. Those monstrosities are still around, sort of the way platform shoes are still around. Not popular, but you sometimes see them. Otherwise, Japanese super-toilets have taken over.

Now for some inside poop on the column below.

I once wrote a Tokyo travel guide entitled Tokyo Top Sights, published by Kodansha International in 2008. In doing research, I hit every museum, showroom, and attraction I could find. That’s how I ended up visiting the Toto Super Space in Shinjuku in central Tokyo.

That was in 2005. It still exists even today, but has changed locations and can now be found in Yoyogi, to Shinjuku’s immediate south.

Readers outside Japan may be unaware that “Toto” is the name of Japan’s top bathroom and kitchen fixtures company. Makes for some nice Wizard of Oz jokes too.

The column below is packed with pop culture imagery from film and television. Put on your nostalgia caps.

“Washlet” is the product name for one of Toto’s popular toilets. “O-furo” is the Japanese term for “bathtub” or “bath.”

The title used below appeared with the original column publication. That’s it!

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Rocket Johnny: to Infinity and Beyond!

Apr 23, 2005

In the heart of downtown Shinjuku there's a land -- far over the rainbow -- where dreams really do come true. That is, if your dream involves a bowel movement.

Fittingly, it’s called the Toto Super Space, a showroom for bathroom fixtures set on the lofty 26th and 27th floors of the L-Tower Building, a place where visitors can flush their troubles away. And -- if they are perhaps so inclined -- their little dog too.

This shiny wonderland must be where the Wicked Witch, Edward Scissorhands and Mickey Mouse go to relieve themselves. Step inside, and guess what's on the Muzak? Yep, "Zip-a-dee doo-dah, zip-a bi-det!"

But stop! For in the Toto Super Space, fantasy imagery seems a sort of waste. More than a resting spot for Dorothy and Big Bird, this is the realm of hardcore science fiction. The panels of buttons, the electronic eyes, the silent mechanisms…

"There is nothing wrong with your vision," suggests some modulated voice. "Do not attempt to adjust your brain." (Although you might need to loosen that belt buckle.)

"Yes, you are about to experience the awe and mystery which leads from the inner reaches to… the outer limits… of plumbing."

And then perhaps to infinity and beyond.

As for me, I have always harbored a certain hesitancy toward highfalutin Japanese toilets. When it comes to johns, I am in essence a meat-and-potatoes type of guy. I desire only privacy and minimal comfort. When I need to jettison, I do not need a jet.

In fact, I admit to being a bit fearful of the fancy kind. We have a Washlet in our home, but I always leave it unplugged. At least electronically.

For I worry that if I were to switch on the machine and scrunch in tight, I might soon hear some distant technician shout: "Okay, Scotty! Beam him down!" This, I figure, is to be avoided.

I do not know where this toilet phobia began. Perhaps I can blame my mother for telling me stories of pythons and baby alligators lurking just out of eyesight under our toilet bowl, prepared at any instant to snap up and grab you where you least like to be grabbed. Especially by serrated teeth.

For a constipated mind like mine, it is not such a leap to imagine mechanical claws and heat-seeking missiles perched in the lower regions of the fittings and just waiting for me to push the wrong button. Or, even worse, for me to mistakenly hit the ejection switch and find myself flying through the Tokyo sky, with a plume of pink toilet paper trailing behind.

I have friends who love modern Japanese fixtures. This includes a farmer pal in Wisconsin who was so smitten by Japanese "o-furo" that he made one by using an overturned pig hut. Not so high-tech, but still functional. Of course, to properly concoct a current-day Japanese toilet, he would need the cockpit of a spaceship. You don't find many of those in Wisconsin.

Which brings me back to the Toto Super Space. With the focus on marketing, the mood is very user-friendly. Genteel staffers guide potty-phobes like me on a pleasant tour of more than just the latest in lavatories. There are shower rooms with instant-dry flooring, bathtubs with built-in TVs and kitchens with disappearing cabinets. Every convenience of the 22nd century home.

Yet, to say Toto is to say toilets. Here the Super Space does not disappoint. Beyond what might be the world's largest selection of toilet-paper racks sit sparkling rows of the newest-style cans. Included are some -- specifically designed for the elderly -- that will rise up from the floor to meet your bottom.

Now doesn't that frighten you? I mean, what if your bottom was in another room, sitting on your sofa? Might not this gadget come after it?

Nonsense, says my Toto guide. Don't be silly. She then shows me a toilet with an unattached flushing and bidet mechanism, similar to a remote-control device, with the control box designed to be bolted into the wall somewhere alongside the stool.

However -- I force her to admit -- it would be possible to place the control device in another room. In which case, the toilet user would be at the complete mercy of…

"Do you realize," I tell her, "what this might do in the wrong hands? Like, say, mine?"

She says she does not and then politely declines my offer to demonstrate. She next shows me Toto's piece de resistance: toilets with lids that instantly flip up when you stand before them.

In fact, the Super Space boasts a long line of such toilets. It's possible to dash back and forth in front of them, causing the entire lot to flap up and down as much as you like. In my case, I liked for about 20 minutes.

Then…

"We have restrooms on the 26th floor," says the guide. "You can try our toilets for real. If you want."

I take that for a dare. At a glance, the men's room looks normal enough. But when you step inside a stall, the toilet lid gives an immediate salute.

The moment of truth has arrived. I settle down, with the platform of control buttons placed ominously at my elbow. I feel all the power of the universe resting beneath my fingers. Do I use it? Or abuse it? Whichever, something does not seem right.

Sure enough, I have neglected to tug down my drawers. I spring up and wipe cold sweat from my forehead. The bidet had almost had me! I swallow and try again.

"How was it?" asks the Toto girl somewhat later.

Well, what can be said? Except that… yes, I was moved.

© Thomas Noah Wood

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