A tete-e-tete with Toto

Right in the middle

I’ve just returned from one of those hotels where the doorman scans you from head to toe and pigeonholes you, where the bellhop looks at your luggage, which I believe has aged with great dignity but which, judging by the barely concealed disdainful look, he does not, and where the receptionist looks at you and condescendingly completes the formalities.You go to your room with your dignity barely intact after these visual assaults.

And then, after you have placed the card key in the slot, which triggers the lights, you look around. There are no remotes for the TV, the room is freezing cold, and no control panels are visible. You call for assistance, and the person looks at you with great boredom. He points to an iPad and states that all controls are available there. I request assistance. He opens the iPad and takes me through the various controls—everything from lights to television to curtains to room temperature to communications for services is controlled by the iPad. You are impressed.

But then I have yet to see what else is in store. The hotel person takes me to the bathroom. There is a western toilet, and as we enter, the toilet seat opens with a whirring noise. Wow! sensor-driven, I say; Japanese technology, sir, he says. There is a small panel on the side with multiple instructions. All controls are operated through this little panel, I am told. I take a closer look and can barely make out the small print.

I put on my glasses, and the apparition reads that it has been made by Toto.

And then comes the very interesting interaction with Toto. As soon as you enter the bathroom, Toto gets activated. It obviously does not distinguish whether you are entering the bathroom to wash your hands or for more serious business. And the multiple instructions—rear, soft, front, wide, pressure, position, oscillation, dryer (I have seen hair dryers, but dryers for the nether end!)—keep me engaged with the toilet. It flushes of its own accord, and the seat shuts.

Initially annoyed at the contraption, I soon developed a strong bond with Toto. I make multiple visits and take photographs from all angles. Only the Japanese could make such a device--technology designed to make things simpler by making them more complicated.

When the time comes to say “Tata to Toto,” I do so with mixed emotions. I have come back to normal times—and to a toilet seat that does not stand to attention when I enter. How disrespectful!

I look forward to my next tete-a-tete with Toto.