Yesterday, I spent most of the day at a zoo. Well...let me amend that. A menagerie would be a better description. This place was a zoo like 'krab' with a 'K' is similar to crab. I was accompanying Thing1 on a dreaded field trip, which meant that I had to bring Thing2 along as well. Hail, hail, the gang's all here...
This 'zoo' consisted of lots of wooded land with paths. Strewn along the paths were pens with animals in them. (Hey. It's the schticks of North Carolina. That's what's available around here for educational entertainment.)
The dweeb who runs the place does his best with school tours, but he's like a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest...running around trying to put on little info-shows while keeping the groups of kids informed about the animals. This 'zookeeper', who proudly informed the parents he also responds to 'hey, you!', makes his living off of having groups of schoolkids tour his displays. That being said, you'd THINK he'd provide adequate bathroom facilities.
Noooooo.
30 acres of 'zoo' and one STINKIN' port-a-potty.
Of course, all the kids have to 'go' when they're at the absolute farthest distance from the john. In the midst of the zookeeper's 'Learn about the Japanese quail named Pee Wee' speech, a little girl decided she HAD to go. (Picture: crossed legs, bouncing up and down, panic...) So I volunteered to take her to the potty.
We ran and ran, finally making our way back to the entrance to the park and the potty was being USED! ALAS! WOE IS ME! So the poor kid stands there shaking and FINALLY, out of the port-a-john rolls a big, fat, nasty worker-guy (seen earlier repairing some fence near the emu's pen). Unfortunately for the little girl, big, fat, worker guy had laid some big, fat bricks in the potty.
Oh, the humanity.
Thanks a lot, dude.
Desperate for relief, the kid staggered into the foul canister. I don't think she'd ever used a port-a potty before, and this was a nasty intruduction to the entire concept. Considerately, I held the door open (they're on springs, so they always shut) and stood around the corner so she could have a little fresh air as well as privacy. Also, if she fell in, I could hear the 'sploosh' as she hit the sewage.
Poor thing. She did her 'business' and reeled out, green around the gills. We stopped by the sheep pen to take a few breaths of 'fresh' air. What a trauma!
When you've gotta go, you've gotta go. Right?
2 comments:
I think this particular brand of humiliation is reserved just for females. Males, of course, have the option to open their fly and let fly where ever they may be. Not so easy for girls.
I have a number of male friends who have informed me (don't ask why) that they enjoy, and indeed, prefer peeing outside. No port-a-potty torture for these dudes!
What the hell is that all about?
I agree-- men seem to relish the act of public urination. How many millions of dumpsters have been marked by after-hours partiers? Is it the thrill of illicit public urination, or a primal urge to mark territory? Ha! I'm jealous, actually...
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