Wargaming Tournament Trip, Part II – Try Not to Pee at Frankfurt Airport

Oh Frankfurt airport, how I’ve missed your inadequate bathrooms!

Frankfurt airport is pretty darn big, as evidenced by the 5K I had to endure to get between gates. One positive of aspect of this airport is its free luggage trolleys. Canceled out by that positive is one negative—the airport’s attitude toward the disposal of human waste.

Last time I was here, I waited in an endless line for a one-seater women’s toilet. This time, I walked and walked and walked, finally saw a toilet, went into it, and found a long line of women waiting to use (shudder) a toilet that didn’t flush. I did a quick about-face and left, amazed at how blasé these ladies were about taking turns perching upon a cauldron full of filth.


I trudged to the next bathroom (stopping along the way to buy a $6 bottle of Coke. I’m not kidding – six dollars.)

This bathroom was miraculously empty and had twelve or so stalls, but all of them were locked. No one was in them—they were just for some reason, inaccessible. I loaded up my trolley again (oh, and btw I somehow ended up with the oldest, noisiest trolley in European history. You shoulda seen me squealing my way like a poorly-oiled shopping cart past gate after gate.) and found a toilet designated for disabled persons. Since no one was around, and I really had to go, I dodged inside.

Frankfurt must have been struck by an epidemic of non-flushing toilets, because the toilet in that bathroom was stuffed full of paper. Thinking to confirm it’s lack of flush-power before using it, I pulled a red cord hanging from the wall. No flush. Not that surprising really, since the cord had nothing to do with flushing and belonged to an emergency notification system designed to bring airport staff running.

A loud beeping started blaring from a wall-mounted intercom and I admit it; I panicked. Frantically pressing every button on the thing, I called into it, “I’m fine! Nevermind! I’m OK!” No one responded, so I got out of there as fast as my old, squealing trolley wheels would let me.

Oy. Looks like I’m holding it until Warsaw. I guess one consolation is how much the Germans love David Lynch. Well, at least his coffee.

That's a damn fine cup of coffee.

Consolation #2 is how nice the ceiling is in Frankfurt airport. Here’s a picture of it. It’s the last thing I saw before I collapsed on a bank of seats and my eyes slammed shut.

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