14. The Space Bathroom
This out-of-this-world restroom is fully equipped with leg and arm restraints while in use, to ensure total accuracy. Also, “the toilet uses flowing air instead of water to flush the toilet. The air pulls the waste away from the astronaut’s body and flushes it away.”
13. The Ski-Jump Toilet
Japan’s Madarao-Kogen hotel is home to the simulated ski-jump toilet, offering maximum comfort without the harshness of winter: “The cubicles were fully wrapped on all sides, so that the person caught short would have a ski jumper’s view when they were sitting on the loo.”
12. The Timed Toilet
WARNING: Use at your own risk. These New York public restrooms are automatically unlocked and opened after 15 minutes. There is also a weight limit for each restroom, so as to prevent small children from getting trapped inside and scandalous activity from potential partygoers or those who are a bit more adventurous. Can you beat the clock?
11. The Egg Toilet
These Space Age egg-pods can be found in London’s “sketch”, which was ranked the 18th best restaurant in the world in 2005.
10. The Vertical Bathroom
Have a small bathroom? No problem! Poop in style with The Vertebrae, a fully-equipped restroom of the future: “Award-winning designer Paul Hernon improvised The Vertebrae considering the space-conscious householders who struggle to fit a traditional shower, sink and toilet into their bathroom space.”
9. The Self-Cleaning Restroom
The Sanisette is a self-cleaning public restroom, first pioneered in Paris. After a patron exits the restroom, “a wash cycle begins inside the toilet, and the toilet fixture itself is scrubbed and disinfected automatically.” The washing process takes 60 seconds.
8. The Eco-Friendly Bathroom
Everything in this Milwaukee restroom is 100% environmentally friendly: “the bathrooms use 100% rainwater to flush its low-flow toilets… Electricity for lights and pumps is solar powered, toilet paper and towels are made from 100% recyclable materials, soaps and cleaners are biodegradable, the paint on the walls is from organic compounds, and the urinals don’t flush.”
7. The Waterfall Bathroom
Make your own log flume at The Madonna Inn, a hotel that flushes with a waterfall.
6. The Underwater Bathroom
5. The Urine-Controlled Video Game
Ever think “man, I’m so bored” while you pee? Me neither. But that hasn’t stopped Japan and the UK from creating urine-controlled video games, which are strategically placed in bars: “Apparently sales of Corona beer increased 47 per cent once the special urinals and wall-mounted displays were installed.” Let’s just hope there’s not a two-player option.
4. The Retractable Toilet
The Dutch company Urilift has created public restrooms which magically appear after-dark, so as to keep the area more picture-friendly during the day. Each retractable toilet contains multiple urinals that are equipped with lights, allowing for optimal usage when in session.
3. The Bottomless Bathroom
Mexico is home to the world’s scariest bathroom, which happens to be located on the top of a 15-story elevator shaft. You may literally find yourself scared shitless if you visit.
2. The $29 Million Dollar Toilet
This solid gold toilet was created by the Hang Fung Gold Technology Group and is located in Hong Kong. Plastic shoe covers are required to be worn at all times while in the restroom, so as not to scuff the floor’s 900-gram gold medal bars.
MIKE CLARKE / AFP
1. The One-Way Outhouse
This is the outside of the bathroom. Seems harmless, right?
But this is the inside of the bathroom, a boxed view of your entire surroundings. This diabolical toilet was created by London artist Monica Bonvicini.
And that’s the scoop on where to poop
You’ll probably want to start at 4:35, that’s where things get interesting.
“I poop. I poop a lot—today I have already pooped twice. I love the feeling of pooping and I’m completely engaged with my poop—I wipe and inspect. I’m not going to pretend to think I’m unique in this—all my girl friends do the same. We even sit around from time to time (if from time to time means everyday) and discuss our poop.
You think that’s gross, right? Well, I don’t. I don’t think there’s anything particularly gross about one of our most natural bodily functions (I mean, unless you’re eating it or wearing it as a hat or something); everyone poops. And being aware of it is a way for me to keep up with my body. Is my poop a wet runny mess sputtering out of my ass? Yep, I’m dehydrated; need to drink more water! Is it bright yellow? Woops ate something bad, or I need to pre-empt this cold and down the vitamins! Is it sort of maroon-ish? Those beets really did a number on staining my intestines—what a curiosity!
Girls also poop in front of each other. My girl friends and I joke (but really we’re completely serious) that we’re not real friends until we’ve shared a poop. Girls also poop when they need to poop. I’ll poop in the toilets at a bar or a club or a cinema or wherever—when you’ve got to go you’ve got to go. I’ve got girl friends that have pooped in the ocean (I really want to do it; apparently it feels really weird) and just on the ground in a natural environment, like the bush.”
You can find her whole post here
This is a true and horrifying poop story told by a very unlucky investment banker who has asked to remain anonymous. He sent the story to the twitter page “Goldman Sachs Elevator” and we have edited the profanity and re-posted it here:
Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like it’s percolating its way down into my lower intestine. I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn’t more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulence. With each bounce, I have to fight my body, trying not to poop my pants. “Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five” I try and tell myself, each jostle a gamble I can’t afford to lose. I signal to [the flight attendant] and she heads toward me.
“Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don’t see a door?” I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my butt. She looks at me, bemused, and says, “Well, we don’t really have one per se.” She continues, “Technically, we have one, but it’s really just for emergencies. Don’t worry, we’re landing shortly anyway.”
“I’m pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency,” I manage to mutter through my grimace. I can see the fear in her face as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulence outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, “There. The toilet is there.” For a brief instant, relief passes over my face. She continues, “If you pull away the leather cushion from that seat, it’s under there. There’s a small privacy screen that pulls up around it, but that’s it.” At this point, I was committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaft was set to blow.
I turn to look where she is pointing and I get the urge to cry. I do cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no difference. The “toilet” seat is occupied by the CFO, i.e. our client. Our female client!
Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or my exchange with the flight attendant. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” That’s all I can say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo impersonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Of course, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find out what I’m doing.
Given my jovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almost everybody thinks I’m joking. She, however, knows right away that I am anything but and jumps up, moving quickly to where I had been sitting. I now had to remove the seat top – no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party, and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius.
I manage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. It had obviously never been used, ever. Why this moment of clarity came to me, I do not know. Perhaps it was the realization that I was going to take this toilet’s virginity with a fury and savagery that was an abomination to its delicate craftsmanship and quality. I imagined some poor Italian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his once beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second as I was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava.
I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before I erupt. It’s an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing but air and liquid spraying out in all directions – a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. I feel like I’m going to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” My apologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If that’s not bad enough, I have one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level. I am sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!” briefly comes to mind.
I literally could reach out with my left hand and rest it on the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. It was virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, that they weren’t sharing a stall with some guy crapping his intestines out. Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry” is all the ashamed disembodied head can say…over and over again. Not that it mattered.
“One of my earliest memories of this subject was when I was 1 or 2. Maybe even 3, as my memory is a bit fuzzy that far back. One of my aunts had my brother and I in the bathtub, giving us a bath. I was in front, and he was behind me. I remember looking down, and watching with some amazement as a brown log floated slowly between my legs and toward the front of the tub. I was thinking, “Hey, that’s pretty cool”, and I’m sure I could have watched it for hours, fascinated. Just like a leaf floating lazily down a peaceful river. I knew it was mine, so I assume I understood what part I had in delivering this fine work of art to an appreciative audience…
If I’m on the john and stand up afterwards, sometimes I’m tempted to admire my handiwork. Like a wine connoisseur commenting on the bouquet and fragrance of the wine, I make mental notes on the color, size, shape and form of my artwork. Sometimes it’s all jumbled up, and sometimes you have a beautiful swirl like a soft serve ice cream cone. I’m almost tempted to pat myself on the back, until I remember I’ve got a tissue in hand.”