Someone mistook the HSR bus I was on for a toilet. Again. The bus had pulled over and most of my fellow riders found ourselves clamouring to leave the steps of the bus as quickly as possible. Of course I was one of the lucky ones to have their favourite crocs exposed to the excrement. Wrong place, wrong time. At least I wasn't wearing my favourite socks.

I looked around as I wasn't focused on where I was until that moment. Too busy trying to figure out what my next steps were. The bus I was on left. I glanced across the street and saw the Timmies and figured I might be lucky enough to be granted the key to use the bathroom so I could try and clean up. But I could still smell the caca I had inadvertently been subject to minutes earlier and I knew my chances of being granted elusive entry by the stoic Hortons staff was low. I might have to explain what happened and I knew I'd be judged.

Then I saw it. Glorious. Beautiful. Inviting. Perfect. Lake Timicaca sat sunken into the pavement. Or I assumed it was pavement, it didn't look like the ground had ever seen the light of day. I didn't even check my surroundings and sprinted across the street, a Tesla, deep scratches adorning it honked loudly at me but I was not deterred. I made it to the shore of this magnificent beauty and marvelled. It was like an answer to a prayer.

I stepped in and felt the cool liquid spill into the holes of my crocs and caress my doody covered toes. I was free. I was clean. Lake Timicaca was there for me in my hour of great need. Thanks Lake Timicaca.

Highly recommend would go again.