Fortunately we did not think to ask for the names of the toilets at the resort or we could have been in real trouble on our return. Our primary task after we got back was to pick out commodes, which is precisely as romantic and emotionally rewarding as it sounds. It did not help that the various styles had fun names like "Memoir" (how much time do you end up on this?) and "Leeward" (check wind direction before use). There was also an advanced model whose box bore a picture of a toilet sucking the wallpaper off the wall. That, understandably, did not seem to be flying off the shelves.
We ended up picking one called "Colonnade" which I only recently realized has the word "colon" in it. On the other hand, I defy you to find the actual name anywhere in reasonable view on the item, so only the readers of this blog know what we have lurking in our bathroom. That is as good a guarantee of secrecy as any. (Hey, J, you still want to visit?)
Laura did some research (she did not tell me when and she refuses to say whether they have Wi-Fi in her office) and provides the following, um, nugget:
The origin of the (chiefly British) term loo is unknown, but one theory is that it derives from a corruption of the French phrase gardez l'eau loosely translated as "watch out for the water!" The phrase served as a warning to passers-by when chamber pots were emptied from a window onto the street.So perhaps the Kohler people are big on sailing.
A much more plausible theory comes from nautical terminology; loo being an old fashioned word for lee. Early ships were not fitted with toilets but the crew would urinate over the side of the vessel. However it was important to use the leeward side. Using the windward side would result in the urine blown back on board. Even on modern yachts, most (male) yachtsmen, whilst at sea, find it more convenient to go to the loo, than to use the heads."
Update 4/6/08: Via comments, J directs all and sundry to this story of cutting-edge plumbing science.