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There are just a few of those things out there in the world that we all have an equal distaste for as women: Soap in the eyes, sour milk, blackouts in the middle of the night which result in re-setting the alarm clock and then you wake up three hours late.  These “blah” scenario’s make us all a bit more aware that the universe has a good sense of humor, and a bit of a dark side all at the same time.
 
Another one of these dreaded customs are the moments when you realize your only option is to actually use the public event port-a-potty. Photo: abclumberco.com
 
“Johnny-on-the spot,” “Squat a Box,” “Movable wee-wee hole,” whatever you call it, the “blah” is the same for all of us who look upon the oversized specimen cup as our last resort. 

I was at a concert with my friend, and when the show ended, the wave of fans spilled out into the parking lot to head home, or at least continue the party outside waiting for the traffic to die down. So my friend and I decided to sit it out and wait for the exodus of cars to dwindle down, and in turn had a few more drinks in the parking lot.   
 
Maria says “I have to go to the bathroom. I really hate using those things.”
 
“No one likes port-a-potty. That is why no one maintains outhouses anymore above the Mason Dixon Line. You just have to suck it up,” I insensitively responded. 

She didn’t just have the common dislike which all of us have for these bathroom boxes, she always had some trauma occur which result in hours of disgust and multiple showers- just to wash away the scent of disappointment.  I tried being as supportive as I could, but she knew it, I knew it, it was inevitable for her.

Port-a-Potties were my friend's Lex Luthor: Her plastic nemesis.  Lex Luthor photo: mrpeelsardineliqueur.blogspot.com

We waited in the obnoxiously long line while concert go’er after concert go’er made their way in and out of the urine coffin being sure to strategically exhale only once the door was open. She handed me her purse and coat and beer bottle, and went in. I stood off to the side of keeping watch of the line to see who is actually to the point of cross legged standing, hoping, sitting- all the tricks you use while waiting your turn to enter the blue vortex. All of a sudden, I hear a loud thud and some crackling, and drips coming from inside.

I knock on the door, “are you ok Kris?,” “Yeah,” she says. “Just give me a second.”

By this time you can hear the whines in the line starting. You know which ones I mean ladies, we make the same sounds when we’re in a long line at a bar and four girls go into the ONE bathroom together.  After a few more thuds, the door finally opens and my friend walks off with an agitated stammer.  

“Are you ok?” I ask.

“I was trying not to touch the rim and not let my underwear touch and then I saw my jeans were grazing the bottom of the floor. I freaked to try and hike up my jeans, but I couldn’t stop so my underwear got in the canal of my stream and I had to throw them out.”

I was biting my lip in self-discipline trying as hard as I could to fight the comical images of this rushing through my head. Motley Crue photo: fanpop.com I finally composed myself and asked, “So you’re not wearing any underwear right now?”  And again, the universe’s perfect timing chimes in, and a fellow line dweller yells “Yo, someone left panties in here. Gross!”  She quickly picked up the pace on getting as far away from the evidence. This was a situation where the best medicine would only have been to laugh.

I can’t really give an overall “life lesson” comment to this particular story, because I don’t think a concert survival pack should always include extra undies (unless you’re a groupie for Motley Crue).

Let’s just keep this in mind, if you do find yourself at the mercy of a poo-shack, make all attempts to come out with just as many clothes on as you went in with.  If you are forces to surrender a casualty to the booty inferno, drop it in the hole.  NO ONE WILL LOOK IN THERE!

Ladies, ever wonder where the phrase "tapped that" originated?  Fella's, ever wonder if girls had slumber parties with nighties and pillow fights?  Yeah, well me too.  The Vagina MonoBlogs takes a proactive but honest point of view on some of these timeless questions and offers some perspectives to apply...or avoid for that matter!

Click here for last week's Vagina MonoBlogs

Contact Brandi Conrow at brandi.conrow@hotmail.com

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Motley Crue photo: fanpop.com

Portable toilet: abclumberco.com 

Lex Luthor photo: mrpeelsardineliqueur.blogspot.com