It started with the first group of certified plumbers when the association was founded in 1972. The founder, Nguyen Byers, couldn’t stop joking around. “More like ASS—-OO–Tiation, am I right?” he asked this Beat reporter as we recounted the association like counting pieces of stir‑fried corn or “see‑you‑tomorrow” mushrooms.
“We just thought it would be funny if we put all bidets on the left side because most people are right‑handed. Think about how they have to have this cold, metal snake pipe dangling above their upper back like my teenage daughter’s bad tattoo,” Byers explained excitedly. “But the other guys just started taking the bits too far!”
The group started installing all toilets directly against walls in the smallest possible spaces. “I mean, all you want to do is spread your legs to let the turds drop like American bombs, and if we constricted that, it’s as funny as each plop.”
Some members blame Byers for the tone of the plumbers’ group and how they never stopped coming up with new ways to make a bathroom floor perpetually wet. Byers defended himself: “What if we used a level on the floor? We would have missed a banana peel slip every pee—hilarious, no?!”
What began as ribbing among coworkers escalated into an aesthetic and functional philosophy that baffled nearly every cafe customer in Vietnam. Apartment buildings sprouted bathroom pods so narrow that turning around required the agility of a contortionist. Showerheads were angled like confused traffic signals, and every drain seemed to conspire to send its splash precisely toward the door.
Neighbors told stories of awkward encounters: an elderly man who tipped his hat to a bidet and misjudged the nozzle, a courier who tried to deliver a package through a bathroom doorway and emerged with shoes full of suds, and a yoga instructor who adapted her downward dog to avoid a strategically placed towel rack. Building managers, desperate to maintain leaseholders, started offering “escape clauses” allowing tenants to opt into renovations that restored some semblance of privacy and dry flooring—at a price.
Within the association, factions formed. Traditionalists pushed for plumbing that prioritized dignity and hygiene. Nguyen Byers, still fond of a joke, eventually conceded one thing: “Maybe we went a bit far.” For now, tenants walk a little more carefully, and plumbers—left‑handed and right—have found an oddly creative outlet for their craft, however damp the consequences.