There are a lot of things I have loved so far about Europe. Easy access between countries, outdoor drinking, well-dressed women, the list goes on, but there’s one trend that I simply won’t stand for anymore. One thing that has caused me more stress and physical discomfort than any one rule should.
And that’s paying to go to the bathroom.
If you ask me that is some cruel and unusual punishment. It’s European-inflicted constipation and it just ain’t right. Now I’m sure the countries that partake in this torturous toll have a good reason for doing it. The money must go to something important like feeding children or building more gold-plated churches or figuring out how to make urinals cakes that smell like fresh-baked French bread. But there are certain things in this world you shouldn’t have to pay for, and going to the bathroom is right at the top of that list.
Maybe this is an American thing, maybe this is a “me” thing, but very rarely do I have change on me. I just don’t. Except now, every time I need to relieve myself, I have to find a way to scrounge up 1.50 euros. And while simply carrying change at all times seems like the obvious solution, I’ve opted for some slightly more unorthodox solutions. All with varying degrees of success.
Before I go on, let’s think for a second about the old days where you actually had to use change to pass through tolls in your car. You’d drive up on the toll with your family and there’d be a panic that would consume the mini-van. Dad would be digging through the center console not even remotely looking at the road trying to see if he can wrangle 10 nickels. Mom would be digging through her small purse inside of her bigger purse, navigating through gum and lipstick and forty-seven Marshall’s receipts trying to find one more quarter. Meanwhile, you’re in back seat snacking on stale Goldfish you found in the seat cushions looking for a dime you dropped two months ago. That’s the same panic I’ve felt with public restrooms in Europe. Except, instead of just blowing through the toll and going on with your life, you’ve now peed your pants and still don’t have the cash to buy a new pair at Zara.
Anyways, I digress… A few things I’ve tried.
The 5-Year-Old – Stand outside this entrance like this is it. This is the end. Cross your legs, jump up and down, hold your crotch, even let a few tears go if you can force them. You have to show the bathroom attendant all the signs of serious discomfort, bordering on panic, that if you don’t get into this bathroom ASAP there are going to be some serious problems, or worse, death.
Results: This method is a mixed bag. These bathroom attendants** are all cut from the same cloth and are extremely unlikely to make an exception. You might find the occasional fellow tourist who will spare you some change, but more often than not you’re just left dancing around like an idiot.
** Editor’s note about the bathroom attendants ** I swear this is just the same one sweet-looking older woman across all of Europe. It also might be one of the toughest jobs in the world. Taking people’s money before they go do their business only to watch them emerge relieved, but filled with a look of shame, and also probably having not washed their hands.
Buddy system – Always, and I mean ALWAYS travel with someone who carries a change purse and reassure them you’re “going to get them back.”
Results: You get to go to the bathroom, but you never get that person back.
Embrace nature – Find yourself a nice quiet place in the woods, maybe an abandoned back alley where there are no kids around and you’re not risking arrest (this move is not applicable in places of worship or remembrance).
Results: Sometimes you think you’re in the woods only to realize you’re in the perfectly manicured back yard of the prince’s palace in Monaco.
Piggy back – Wait for a big family, preferably one that is paying all at once and just slither right in. Don’t be afraid to hold someone’s hand to really sell in that you’re part of the pack.
Results – I’m not sure what the fine is for peeing without paying, but I do know that the bathroom attendants are licensed to kill on the spot. Proceed with caution.
Avoidance – Skip the public restrooms all together and use this as an opportunity to grab a few beers at the local pub.
Results – Great way to meet some locals and sample the local brew. Unfortunately, this is just kickstarts a vicious cycle and forty-five minutes later you’re back to square one.
Do you have a horrible public restroom story you’d like to share? Maybe just a difficult travel experience? I’m starting to pull together a blog on the worst of the worst travel stories and would love to hear from you. These will remain anonymous and you can submit yours here!