There are No Toilets in St. Peters

There are no toilets at St Peter? SSome 20 million tourists are expected to descend on Rome next year. I? Hopes of informing them there are no toilets in Saint-Pierre? S. I learned that my distress on my only visit to the Eternal City. The discovery begins fairly regularly when I started to feel one of nature? More insistent and familiar urges that I was piously admire the beautiful interior of the great cathedral. St. Peter's is a broad church of overwhelming greatness and artistic and religious significance. It contains a wealth of chapels, altars 44, 229 marble columns, but, I found to my increasing discomfort, no bathroom. After a frantic search of the interior, I asked one of the guards? Dov? Toeletta the E? In response to my Italian, in English, he replied that the toilets were outside in the plaza.I said to my wife, Ann, let me return At the basilica in a few minutes and meet her inside the church near the exit to St. door.I left Peter's Square. The sun has just set and the light is weakening, but there were still hundreds of men and women about milling in the square. I looked for a toilet, but found nothing. I asked at the information desk in the Vatican. A young man dressed in a severe black suit, gleaming white shirt and grey tie tight against his Adam's apple with authority told me that there was only a few hundred meters away, but as it was almost ' closing time, it might be locked. I dashed toward it. It was locked. I started to suck my intestine and walking carefully measured steps. There are 285 marble columns ringing massive Piazza San Pietro. I interviewed each longingly as I passed. But there were too many Swiss Guards. Ringing the space was a street full of the speed of cars and scooters quieter. On the other side of the street, I saw a sign marked? W / C.? I do? I do not know what '? W? Or this? C? Shields, but the sign in Rome, a toilet nearby. An arrow indicates right.My vaguely to the bladder was stretched like a balloon about to burst. I dashed to the car. Drivers honked and squealed their brakes, missing me by inches. Being hit by a car can be a relief. Surely not going to be offended if a pedestrian injured emptied his bladder while lying bleeding on the street.I reported on the other side of the street, unharmed and followed the direction that the arrow pointed. It led to a bungalow. Where are the toilets? I asked desperately. ? On the other side of the square? A guard said, pointing in the direction from which I had just come. On the other side of St. Peter's Square was, I felt, a distance roughly equal to the length of the Washington Mall. It would be impossible to resist nature? More insistent urging that time. I followed the street that I had just crossed the hope of finding a place which had a rest room. I found a small Catholic church, which I seized. I looked for a John. I am not in church. A door on the side leads to the sacristy, where I entered. There was a precious chalice gold lying on a table, but there are no toilets. It is now nearing 6: 30 pm Ann, I knew, was reportedly forced to leave St. Peter's, which closed at 6. I saw some large potted plants in a hallway leading to the sacristy. I started just to water the plants when a large, gray-haired priest came out of the sacristy. He looked at me with expressions of horror, disgust and anger alternately on his face, in this order, as a traffic light turns from green to yellow to red. I stood in the hallway, the water flows on my leg and onto the ground. The priest began to shout something in Italian. I dashed past him and said I passed, I was looking for a toilet.? I found St. Ann desperately seeking Peter's Square for me.? Wet my pants I in a church there.? I not? T say to anyone? It said.But now, you see, I did. # # #
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