She was working as a day camp director and in charge of organizing and receiving deliveries in the process of setting up camp. She ordered and collected the supplies she needed like food, foil, art supplies, fire wood, ice chests, shade structures, medical kits, and porta potties. She figured they would need three potties to accommodate the number of attendees plus the counselors.
She called them to set a delivery time. “Will there be anyone there to help me unload?” the fellow asked.
“Well, I’ll be there, but I don’t know how helpful I can be,” she replied. She thought the company would have two or three guys driving around making these deliveries.
She was sitting on a log near the creek looking at the morning sky and breathing in the fragrant laurel and ocean breeze that was blowing up the river. She was thinking about the cement pad where a red house used to stand before one of the recent floods. That cement pad under the trees would be a perfect spot for the porta potties. You wanted some shade with those urinal caked hot houses.
The truck pulled up with three porta potties strapped together in the back. The driver smiled and waved, “This must be the place.” His face and hands were tanned. He had a wad of tobacco in his jaw and he spit into a cup he had for this purpose.
She thinks, “Oh boy, how is this gonna work?” No one else is there to help. “How are we gonna do this?” she asks waiting for his instructions. She pointed to the slab indicating her preference for their placement.
The guy backs in a little closer, turns off the motor, and hops out putting his gloves on simultaneously. He obviously has done this before. He is a little monkey of a man – a good old boy, fifty-ish, with a wink and a nod. He weighed all of about 135 pounds, but he seemed strong.
Kristie is doubtful that the old guy can do it and stands there in a quandary, but the porta potty guy just grabs a wide nylon belt, ties it around one potty and slips it up onto his back like a back pack in one easy motion. He walks like a giant blue plastic turtle slowly easing the toilet into place and then going back for the second and then the third.
He pauses to put another plug in his caw. He sits on the log resting for a bit while Kristie looks over the paper work and signs for the delivery.
“This is my plan,” he says to her by way of being friendly, “I got me a couple of acres up a hill over in Caz. I’m gonna put up a tent and a porta potty. That’s my retirement. You know it’s only $25 a month to rent one of these things. I’ll be saving on rent, shoot my own meat. I’ll have it made!”
Well, that certainly did give her something to ponder… #PortaPotty
(First published 2/6/12)
