A French in America: Dangerous Toilets

I will always remember the first time I used the men’s room at the Agence France-Presse (AFP) office in New York, where I had just been transferred from Paris. The office was located at 747 Third Avenue, between 46th and 47th streets. It was on the 35th floor. After entering the door code, I found myself in a brightly lit room with 2 urinals side-by-side, and two stalls. As I looked around, I saw someone in one of the stalls. He was sitting on the toilet. His pants and underwear were down. I had a complete view of the person and the activity that he was immersed in. It was not that the door had been left open, but because there was a gap between the door and the stall wall and the door did not reach all the way to the floor. I could not understand how, in such a place, another person could be invited in this way into the privacy of others. The worst part was that I found myself an unwitting witness to a personal moment, without having been asked. <a href="https://medium.com/@lucolinga72/a-french-in-america-dangerous-toilets-31f277a6f99a">Read More</a>