Stories from the Stall; Part 2~Zanzibar

As promised, here is my mother-in-laws story from the stall. They were in Zanzibar at the time.
By Arlene:
Shellie, this story is especially for you. Remember the thing you sent us about why women take more time in a public restroom? We were in a museum, and I saw a sign that said TOILETS. No indication of which was his or hers. I checked out both. They were the same, with a pee trough and about four stalls, two with doors. I picked one and shut the door. No lock. I decided to chance it and pee fast before anyone came in. I started to hang my purse on a hook. No hook. The floor was gunky and wet with I-don't-know-what. There was no back on the toilet tank. So, you guessed it, I HUNG MY BAG AROUND MY NECK! I pulled down my slacks, trying not to let them touch the floor, and did my duty, and guess what: NO TOILET PAPER. No paper seat covers either. Normally I carry a pack of tissue in my purse, but of course I didn't have it this time nor did I have the wet-wipes I bought just for such situations. They were back at the hotel. So I wagged my butt a couple of times, redressed, and shot out of there, finding no sink to wash my hands. All the time I was thinking, "I've gotta tell Shellie about this!"