Tuesday, May 26, 2009

In This Day and Age

It was like any other little league baseball game. As I sat and watched my stepson rotate from one position to another on the field at the change of each inning, my own son was bumming money off of me and making multiple trips back and forth to the snack bar. First it was nachos, then it was a soda to wash the nachos down, and then it was some popcorn, because he just had to have some. When he came back for the fourth time, I was ready with my stern, motherly “NO!” But instead of asking for more money, he announced those seven little dreaded words, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

What’s wrong with having to go to the bathroom you ask? Nothing really—except when it’s number two and the only bathroom around is a single Port-O-Potty, after 20+ teams of little leaguers and their families have come and gone before ourselves that same day.

Laptop computers. Mobile phones. TVs as thin as a book. Music players the size of a pack of gum. With all of the leaps and bounds we have made in these areas, why can’t someone make a better version of the Port-O-Potty?

Let’s face it. The name Port-O-Potty should really be changed to “Tub-O-Turds” or “Add-A-Poo.” I mean, is it really that hard to make one that can flush? If they can make a wireless phone that allows you to sit on your toilet at home and send a text message to someone else sitting on the toilet in a completely different state, then why not a Port-O-Potty that can send the poo into a different compartment a few feet away where we don’t have to see it or smell it?

I don’t know what is worse in those things, the murky pile of sludge sitting down in that black hole or the stench it produces. But it seems that no matter how disgusting we know it is, there’s always that sick part of us that can’t help but to take a quick peek. That is probably the reason they make those things with very little light. You don’t want a good view of what’s down there. It’s like that mountain that guy keeps building in the movie Close Encounters of The Third Kind. I mean, I’m certain there is someone in this world who has taken a dump in one of those things and the turd only had to drop an inch and fold in half to make the top of the pile.

As for the stench, if I can smell what’s in there before I open the door, I’m not going in. I would much rather climb into a cardboard box and crap into a bucket in the middle of the parking lot at Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon.

It’s not like they need underground plumbing for a Port-O-Potty to flush. Take an airplane for example. There’s no underground plumbing on those things. Hell, they’re flying miles above the earth. But you can still flush the toilet and the poo goes somewhere else—even if it is through someone’s roof in the form of a block of ice. That’s a lot better than where in goes in a Port-O-Potty!

And it’s not like someone hasn’t given some thought to improving the Port-O-Potty over the years. Some do have antibacterial soap dispensers in them now. But is that really an improvement or a sick joke? What we actually need is a HazMat unit waiting outside the door to decontaminate us and burn our shoes.

There are also the built-in urinals. Can you see me shaking my head? Like the guys really care what they pee in. Heck, they probably enjoy aiming at the mountain of poo. They are, after all, the ones who think it's funny to go around and say, "Hey, pull my finger!"

But, of course, I must give the Port-O-Potty its educational credit where educational credit is due. I mean, who here has not learned that you can hold your breath a lot longer than you ever thought you could, and that you can pee at the speed of light when you really need to?

As for my son’s bathroom dilemma, I walked him over towards the Port-O-Potty, much like I was walking him to his execution. When we got about 10 feet from the door and I began to smell the fecal stew waiting inside for him, I steered him in the direction of the car and said, “Come on…I’ll drive you to Wal-Mart.”

2 comments:

Happy Hour...Somewhere said...

Jiminy, I hope he never does that again~! Number two is best left for home. I took one of those darn Visual DNA quizzes which was totally fun but they had one question where they showed you about 30 pictures of gross things but you had to pick the picture that meant gross to you. I picked the nasty grimy toilet. Yuck. I have heard there are places where you squat over a hole in the ground. I guess they keep going until the hole is filled with poo and then dig another one?

Funny. Funny.

Anonymous said...

I love your post and completely agree... I thought I would share with you a funny story about port-o-potties... My aunt stopped at a rest stop and to her horror all they had were port-o-potties. She wasn't too happy about having to use them but off she went clutching her purse and most likely praying she'd make it out alive. When she returned to the car she had this look of amazement on her face and said "wow they really have come a long way over the years, they now even have a place for your purse." My uncle looked at her with a confused look on his face. I asked my aunt what she was talking about and she explained. My uncle and I started cracking up... her amazing shelf was actually the urinal. Needless to say she threw out her purse and hasn't been in a port-o-potty since.