Port-a-Potty Blues

PA. crews rescue nude man stuck in portable potty AP Fri Jun. 6, 6:24 PM ET
Rescue crews had to cut apart a portable toilet to rescue a man who got stuck naked inside the potty. Authorities say the 31-year-old man used his cell phone to call 911 on Sunday from inside a portable toilet. Police say the man had been drinking and had taken off his clothes. Somehow, he immersed himself in the holding tank.
Deputy fire commissioner Chris Miller told WPMT-TV, "I've been on the job in one form or fashion for 21 years, and this is the first port-a-potty rescue I've ever had."

We have porta pottys all over Shelter Island, any where where there is construction, which seems to be everywhere these days. And I think everyone has had a memorable porta potty experience at least once.

You’re at an event, or a visitor on Shelter Island, and you’ve got to go, and the only place to go is into the dreaded porta potty. As you try to open the door without touching anything - or letting anything touch you- you are met with that unmistakable smell of industrial strength anti microbial mysterious blue water and raw sewage. As you step in, the porta potty shifts. It doesn’t matter if you’re thin or fat, it shifts and you immediately think, “Oh gawd, don’t let this thing tip over...”. You make your way to the seat. You would’ve put down a paper liner, but they're all gone, or for some reason, the whole tear off pad of liners has been thrown in the tank. So you sit on your hands because you can wash them later.

You can hear people talking about you outside because everyone seems to forget you can hear just fine in a porta potty, matter of fact the sound reception is often enhanced. Someone ought to do a study of the acoustics inside modern marvels.
“Is she STILL in there?”
“Geez, how long does it take?”
“You think she got lost in there?”

I was at a Renaissance Faire once, with two friends. We were having such a nice time until I heard this from inside the blue box.
“Her ice cream cone is really dripping. I’m gonna finish for her, she’s taking too long.
“Are you holding her purse?
“Look inside and see if she has any tissues.”
“Oh wow, look at this. The condoms I understand, but handcuffs?”
“Handcuffs? Her?”

Inside the blue box of humiliation, I called out, “Get out of my purse! The handcuffs are for a play, I’m dropping them off tonight. The condoms are my friends, she’s with her mother and she didn’t want her mother to know she has a boyfriend.”

Outside the blue box of humiliation, they heard, “Mmmmlllllooommmuuummmtaumblah!”

I finally exited the box. The six people in line, all of whom knew what was in my handbag, looked at me suspiciously as I tried to step out with dignity. But I tell you now, there’s no believable explanation you can offer for the combination of condoms and handcuffs in the same location.