I have a problem with Porta-Potties.
Unlike men – who can relieve a full bladder without touching anything but themselves, we girls have to sit directly on a surface that has shared space with the intimate parts of A LOT of other people.
Now, while that is gross enough, it is not the real problem since the same can be said for an actual “plumbed” toilet, as the Good Lord intended for them all to be. The problem is that there is no magic little hole through which the deposit goes away in a little swirly, water tornado. It is just SITS there. Looking at you. If you are brave enough to look at it, that is.
When I was younger, I could go for DAYS, storing it like a camel, before I would use a portable toilet. But now, with an aging bladder and a late-in-life pregnancy, I can’t walk across the street without peeing on myself a little. I am literally about 6 months away from needing adult diapers.
So now, let me share with you my “Personal Portable Potty Policy,” which is — NEVER LOOK BACK.
Here’s how I do it: I open the door slowly, with my head facing away from the interior. I turn around and step BACKWARD into the unit as if it were an airline toilet. I then squat without ever looking at my aim.
Now, there are two types of women in the world. The sitters and the squatters. I am a sitter. It is more comfortable and I don’t pull a muscle. And I HATE squatters. Squatters leave their urine sprayed all over the lid like a cat in heat. It is ridiculous that squatters think their butts are so precious that it cannot touch a surface shared with other butts, yet think the rest of us enjoy an unsuspecting sit-down in their pee.
Now, having said I hate squatters, I will confess that there is ONE time that I squat. You guessed it. In the PSU. Back to the age and condition of my bladder for a moment. I also don’t have the stream force I used to have and I can’t just cut it off on a whim… THOSE muscles gave up the ghost after two hours of pushing… so squatting is not something that I take lightly, but in a PSU, I squat, take a deep breath and put everything I have into a forceful stream aimed as far away from my body as possible.
Here is the day my procedure failed me: I was at a craft festival that shall remain nameless. I went through my backwards routine, squatted, gave it my all and just as I was about to pull up my pants… I felt dampness on my behind. A LOT of dampness. I reached around to explore the source and realized that there was a lot of moisture on my legs as well. From thigh to calf, I was drenched. WTF? Then, I had to do it… I had to look.
I slowly turned my head about a quarter-turn and slid my peepers all the way to the left in an effort to just barely make out the bowl hole. This particular porta-potty came WITH A LID… that some moron had closed. I had just whizzed all over the place and the back splash soaked me. I was concentrating so hard on my squat technique that I never felt the golden shower I was giving MYSELF!
I had no idea they even made them with real toilet lids! I’ve never looked!
There was no way I could clean up a gallon of urine, so forgive me, but I had no choice… I peeked out the door to make sure the coast was clear, stepped out and trotted away quickly before anyone noticed me.
I may have to rethink my PSU policy. And I want to apologize to everyone at that festival for taking a toilet out of commission. I’m sorry.
Cheaper Than Therapy is a blog and live storytelling show in Montgomery, AL. FOLLOW the blog, LIKE the show on FB, FOLLOW me on Twitter @ReneaDijab or come check out the show!