If you don’t find this edition of the #OopsFiles by blogger Not An Effing Fairytale, funny, then…then…I actually have no idea how to even finish that sentence. Laugh? Sweet Mary, I nearly broke myself. I have to say (and this is not, I repeat this is NOT a complaint) the #OopsFiles actually get more and more [try to not to say ‘ridiculous’ Prabs] un-be-lievable with each edition. I’m sure I’ve said it somewhere previously in the series but you just could NOT make this stuff up!! As I’ve also no doubt said before:
Absolutely Prabulous cannot be held responsible for any weak mummy bladder issues that may occur (not sure what the male equivalent is) or abdominal injuries that are sustained, due to readers of this post laughing themselves silly.
I will be the first to admit that I am quite a clumsy person, especially after a few drinks are involved, but the amount of unfortunate accidents I have had while traveling the world is pretty impressive and the list is growing by the year. I fall over pretty frequently and I am also skilled in the art of falling down things. Squat toilets in particular are my nemesis, especially when they are encased in a cubicle and I am lulled into a false sense of security that there is a wall mounted toilet in there. I back into said cubicle and whoosh; I’m knee deep in foreign urine wondering where it all went wrong.
It’s not just countries that favour squat toilets that are perilous for me; so are countries that insist on having beauty spots with no plumbing, and therefore insist on having toilets that are nothing more than a shed with a bucket in.
Visiting the lavatory while traveling is not the only everyday activity that I manage to turn into an extreme sport. Bike riding, snorkeling and even just walking have almost made me meet my maker over the years. So, here in all their glory are a few of my stories of stupid injuries sustained while traveling:
1) Toilet injuries – mainly in China.
After the relative safety of a week in a hotel in Hong Kong and various malls and tourist attractions with their wall hung toilets, I was ill prepared for my entry into mainland China, the land of the squat toilet.
After two hours on the train from Hong Kong to Guangzhou where the toilet was broken (oh, the irony), arriving at my destination I was desperate for the loo. So I ran for it. I sprinted into the cubicle and immediately turned round to lock the door and drop my trousers…and there was nothing there bar the squat toilet. Expecting to bump into a toilet and to keep on going is not great, especially when your jeans are already around your ankles. I ended up with one leg knee deep in the hole and the other leg stuck awkwardly underneath me.
Consequently, my first twelve hours in China were spent in a hospital, waiting for x-rays with a shoe covered in other peoples shit. That was the worst part: The bastard before me didn’t flush.
I fell down a grand total of six toilets during the weeks I travelled China, but by far the worst one was while on a two day train journey across the vast country. The facilities on the long distance,
Chinese trains are also squat toilets and if I can’t use the bastard things when they are stationary, how hard do you think I found it on a rickety train where the lights didn’t work?
I had to spend two days in a bunk bed, surrounded by five elderly Chinese women and an assortment of dead birds and mammals they were travelling with, nursing a swollen ankle and stinking of piss.
Other toilet related mishaps in China include pissing on myself while on the Great Wall of China. No, I wasn’t on some kind of weird and wonderful hen party, I was camping out on the wall for the night with a group of other travellers and some lovey Chinese tour guides.
I would love to say that my overriding memory of camping out on one of the great wonders of the world was falling asleep under a blanket of shooting stars, but alas, when I look back the thing that stands out most is peeing on my own leg, while drunk and trying to balancing precariously in a corner in the pitch black next to an ancient watch tower. I was balancing awkwardly after having twisted my ankle falling over while climbing up the wall whilst drinking the strongest Saki ever (don’t judge me; the locals were worse than us and were egging us on).
2) Kangaroo injuries, Queensland, Australia.
This one is fairy simple. While visiting friends in Brisbane we were having a few drinks at their local golf club, where the Kangaroos run wild. A burly Australian chap by the name of Brett took a shine to me and took me to, ahem, sink a few holes down the other end of the club in a golf buggy.
I took a swing with a golf club for the first time in my life and actually hit the ball! Unfortunately, that ball then hit a kangaroo that immediately bounded towards me with hate filled eyes. Still trying to impress me, burly Brett picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, ran towards the golf buggy, slipped over and dropped me, where I cracked my head open on the golf buggy bumper.
Meanwhile, the kangaroo of certain death was coming up fast, so do you know what burly Brett did? He left me on the floor and drove off. Thankfully, some other less cowardly people scared the kangaroo away and I lived to see another day after having my head glued back together at the local hospital. And Brett? He was most put out when I refused a date for the next evening on account of him being a complete tosser.
3) Morocco – another country, another squat toilet.
Yep, another falling down a squat toilet story. I was in Morocco, driving through the Atlas Mountains, which are obviously quite high. As we neared the top of the steep mountain road, I was over come by horrendous altitude sickness, so we had to stop at a settlement and beg to use their facilities. By the time I’d asked in rusty French and mimed being sick and they finally knew what I was on about, I had to run into the toilet and what did I find?
There was a ****ing goat in the room. I fell over it and vomited in the squat toilet and then vomited some more when I saw and smelt what else was in the hole in the ground.
Then as I felt a tug on my back, I remembered the goat. It was eating my t-shirt.
It was at that point I thought the most ridiculous thing that has ever run through my head: “Please God, don’t let me die down a shit filled toilet being eaten by a goat”.
Cookie Kibbles is a comedy writer and stand up comic currently masquerading as a parenting, lifestyle and eff ups blogger at notaneffingfairytaleblog.com trying to laugh at life as it happens and hopefully, making you laugh too.
Find Cookie on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and her blog Not an Effing Fairytale
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