Hit me up if you have any suggestions of good places to stop, my friendly Floridians. I’m hoping to hit Yee-Haw Junction somewhere along the way. Because how could I not?

Public Restrooms. Not. A. Fan. Why?

Almost like Sochi – every time.

I avoid them like the plague, as I imagine most people do. However, when a girl has got to go, she’s got to go. And that means beggars can’t be choosers.

Public restrooms in the US are bad enough, but at least there’s a familiarity about them. As torturous as they can be, there are relatively few surprises. A few years ago (ok, a lot of years ago), I had the opportunity to live abroad. Spending an entire summer in Italy meant I wasn’t going to be able to hold it all day just so I could use the throne at home. It meant venturing into the unknown. Entering stalls in a foreign land – literally a foreign land. My bum was about to receive a cultural awakening.

So it was a different sort of experience … I did enjoy how many places had a “closet” to enter into instead of a stall. The toilets were relatively similar, not so different from our own. And those “occupied” signs next to the door handles were so cute!

About halfway through the summer, I’d hit my groove. I was basically a resident Italian and my public restroom thing was becoming a thing of the past. So I thought.

One night I was in a club with my friend Lucia and nature came calling. I headed to the bathroom. Unlike the clubs and bars I’d been to in the States, and even most of the ones I’d been to in other clubs in Italy, this particular one had no line. I didn’t think anything of it, really, till I walked in.

It was this large open room. I couldn’t find any stalls. I walked out and checked the door, to make sure I had entered the right room and I had. As I reentered, looking around, suddenly I saw it across the way. There in the middle of the floor was a hole. Just a hole. Surely that wasn’t … I mean, how could this be … the toilet?

I don’t think so.

Yeah, I passed. Didn’t drink another drop and held it all the way home. I don’t regret it for a second.

I will never take-back NOT peeing in a hole in some floorboards in a random dance club in Italy. That’s a fact.