Warning: The following anecdote includes mention of a
bodily function. I am unable to tell the
story without talking about it. So if
you are uncomfortable with the mention of bodily functions – with the exception
of perhaps sneezing – the following might not be for you. For the rest of you who don’t worry about
that stuff…
Here we go.
A few years ago, as a result of visiting a luxurious
Hawaiian hotel during the “off season”, we were awarded an upgrade to a room we
would otherwise never be able to afford.
(As previously mentioned, the Major
Dad profits do not kick in until the show is entirely “out of the red”, a
condition Universal’s impenetrable
accounting system will apparently never allow to take place.)
The upgraded accommodations included a Japanese-manufactured
Toto automatic toilet. The way it works is, when you approached it, the
lid automatically rose up. You pressed a
button, and the toilet seat immediately rose up to join it. And when you were finished, after an
internally calibrated “Waiting Period”, the lid and the toilet seat descended automatically
to their original positions.
The Toto’s
maneuvers were well worthy of applause.
Maybe even a standing ovation.
During our week’s visit to the luxurious Hawaiian hotel, we
enjoyed and got used to our Toto
automatic toilet. And when we returned
to the Mainland we surrendered to the extravagance and we purchased one of our
own, installing it, not in the Ground
Floor facility of our house where visitors could see it and cluck, “Look who
got fancy”, but unobtrusively in our upstairs Master Bathroom. Where it would just be for us.
We have had our Toto
automatic toilet for almost three years now.
It has functioned impeccably, and we have absolutely no complaints.
However…
Last night…
I digress momentarily but not extraneously to reference the
1973 science fiction movie Westworld,
wherein robots servicing the needs of guests at a fabricated Wild Western
locale go berserk and begin to gun down its human visitors.
Since you are experiencing me writing this, you know that my
Toto automatic toilet did not
unexpectedly murder its owner. However,
as in Westworld, where a society placing
its trust in robots is delivered a “rude awakening” when the their relied-upon devices
suddenly break loose from their programming and run ruthlessly amok…
Well, this
happened. Which will not make a
movie. But it gave me a view into the
future. And left me anxiously concerned.
I am positioned comfortably above our reliable Toto toilet whose lid and seat have automatically
risen and remained fixed in a vertical position, engaging in the urinary activity
men habitually engage in while standing directly over a toilet. And it is going pretty well… for my age.
But then…
To my horror, the toilet seat, without direction or warning…
Began lowering to its original position…
Although I was nowhere close
to being finished.
With the inevitable consequences.
Which “good taste” requires me to decorously exclude.
Suffice it to say, however…
It was not an
enjoyable aftermath.
A minor glitch, to be sure.
But with an element of foreboding.
They’ve got the “Driverless Car” now.
But if they cannot ensure that a toilet seat will stay up…
2 comments:
Robert Sheckley's dystopian future comes to life...
wg
Just curious, how long did it take to get it fixed, or did they send out the Lexus repair group, so you're still rapidly pacing?
Another aside: Tuesday, a senior citizen (probably like me, just over 65), in front of me at Starbucks, picked up her 16 oz. cup of coffee, took one step to her right then dropped the cup. Quite a mess. But true to the good business model to which they ascribe, and in spite of the woman's objection, the barista immediately replaced her order, no charge. I know, different circumstances, but still...
Post a Comment