I was shocked when the first Korean I met spoke to me.

I wasn't certain what to expect of the people. I read up on the country, interviewed several friends who had lived or traveled in Korea, but honestly, I didn't know any Koreans. I'd heard that Koreans were a gregarious and warm people. I did not doubt this, yet I was taken aback, when I was greeted at the airport that day.

The airport bathroom was quite nice. Like all public bathroom stalls in Korea, the doors go all the way down to the floor. This means no "shoe browsing" as you wait in line and you must knock on the door to find out if it's occupied. In return, you will receive only an anonymous "knock" from the occupant if the stall is in use. But this bathroom, on the same floor as the International arrivals, had other amenities as well. On each of the doors was a little framed picture, encased in glass. The picture on the door of the stall I chose was of a woman carrying a little bucket on top of her head through an old Korean village. Very cute in a garage-sale kind of way. As I opened the door, a light switched on from the ceiling. My own little lamp. I wished for the book I'd been enjoying on the plane.

As the English printed on the back of the toilet instructed, I pushed the little red button on the tank behind the seat. The plastic sleeve enveloping the seat magically cruised like a conveyer belt from one end of the toilet seat around the bend and then sucked in mysteriously, on the opposite side. A fresh sheet of plastic was now in place to protect my butt from the Public Bathroom Cooties that many of us have feared throughout our lives. No sooner than I had sat down did I hear that lovely Korean voice that sent me skyward, pants still twisted around my ankles. She sat behind me, traditionally styled, though short by Western standards, skin of smooth, white porcelain and spoke flawless English. The toilet had uttered, "Welcome to Korea!"

The toilet talked.
English. The toilet talked to me in English.

I stood in the corner of the stall and stared at the toilet as it began to play a lovely new-age tune with carefree birds chirping in the background. Last time I'd checked, it was 1997 when I dropped acid, however, it'd been a long day, a flashback, perhaps? I looked around for Allen Fundt-Kims' hidden camera as I quickly pulled my pants up to my knees. The toilet continued to sing for a full minute until at last, the music peacefully faded away. Incredulous, I pressed the button a second time and again that cheerful voice, "Welcome to Korea!" I looked around so I could say to someone else, "Can you believe this?" but I was still alone in the stall with the long-winded lavatory.

After Zamfir finished his sphincter-relaxer refrain I sat down and thought about the endless marketing possibilities for the Talking Toilet. I imagined the obvious need for the Conversational Can in college dormitories, fraternity and sorority houses all across America. Imagine if, as you lay, your hair half submerged in a toilet bowl full of your own vomit, your toilet would have offered you one of several different types of advice in a friendly, succinct manner. "Forget about HIM/HER! He's/She's a loser! He'll/She'll be sorry one day!" or, "Use a condom next time!" or perhaps simply, "Beer then wine and you'll be fine…." You know the rest but it's timeless advice all college kids should adhere to, isn't it?

Anyway, lost in thought, there was a knock on the door. I knocked back and began to do up my belt. I must admit, I was excited just as I was about to flush. What other surprise might there be? Maybe a fire-works display or perhaps some gem of Korean wisdom to send me out on my foreign adventure. I was at least expecting a, "Thank you!" or worse, a "Geez, what'd you eat for lunch?" but there was only silence when I flushed. I cannot deny I was slightly disappointed. As I opened the door, the lamp above clicked off.

I washed my hands and face and tried to imagine the next year of my life. I drew a complete blank. I realized that beyond the sterilized airport environment, I hadn't any idea what to expect. That was ok, though. I didn't really expect much of anything when I went into the rest room to begin with but I walked out with a bounce in my step and a pan-flute song in my head. Not a bad way to start the year.