I’m Just Here For The Loos

Hamad International Airport in Doha, Qatar, has the most fabulous loos in the world. They are attended to by cleaners every minute of the day and you can go for a number one and for a number two assured of an electronically controlled flush as soon as you zip up or arise. I’m not sure if it’s the same for the ladies but I imagine it is. The walls of the loo are just a trifle low and so could allow a tall man the chance to peer over but apart from that little quibble, fabulous is a fitting adjective to describe those loos. I had the pleasure of watching an airport worker cleaning a suspect loo and it took him at least twenty-five minutes.

I noticed that he not only mopped the surface of the tiles but got to work cleaning the tile joins which I measured at over a centimetre in width.

After I had performed I was able to activate the electric tap without the usual banging and provoking, and the spray water (no common jet) came out at an ideal temperature for me (and I’m sure for others) – pleasantly warm with a prior amount of soap liquid making the right quantity of suds. Yes, a magnificent crapper if ever I saw one and gave it a good mooning.

Because I had six hours to kill between flights and because the cold water was free and I partook liberally, I was able to visit that particular lavatory in Hamad International Airport at least ten times. As you can see, I was not disappointed, and every time there was a cleaner cleaning or supervising or milling around. Loath was I to leave off tripping back into that spotless, international toilet, so loath I almost missed my connecting flight.

All countries with international airports and indeed all countries that find it difficult piecing a toilet together or, when pieced together, keeping it clean, should trip over to Doha and taste of the international clean. Furthermore, those countries that charge an arm and a leg for a bottle of airport water (the UK!) should also take note and sip of the available Adam’s ale in Hamad. It is a cool and refreshing draft and at zero currency absolutely free if you will excuse me the liberty of stating the obvious – which you will have to.

Though I would love to continue to sing the charms of these Arab utilities, I feel the need to perform myself and will have to make do with a drab English bowl. Only one disturbing thought filled me with dismay. I felt sorry for the cleaners who seem to live for and live in those ultra sophisticated loos but I imagine even they feel privileged, not just because of their pristine rooms but also because they are out of the heat which from the aeroplane seemed to have burnt the land to desert which was dipping down into scorching, white shores along pallid and seemingly hot salt-seas.

Goodbye. And if you have liked this post, please share its link so that its readers multiply, and Virily – which pays its contributors – can hurry my dollar to my bank account to enable me to buy the white stuff – that’s more miles of toilet paper to the uninitiated upon which I may even blog my next toilet piece when I repass through Hamad International Airport on my way to the City of Angels where my angel will meet me and taxi me to Fun City which will be partying-drunk when I arrive at six-thirty in the morning on October the third in the year two thousand and seventeen in my sixty-seventh year of clean and unclean toilet “usury”. Yes, I will arrive in a city blissfully unaware of supreme loos.