Here’s my entry for the Porta potty challenge. This one I discovered in the Barrossa Valley, South Australia a few years ago on a cycle and it would be used by the farm workers out in the fields. Imagine if they unwittingly hooked it up and drove off whilst someone was inside with their pants down. Ha Ha. I bet no other porta potty has a number plate.
As a follower of the Church of the Great Outdoors it is written in the holy book of Gregory Ch1 v1 ‘That there is no more wonderous feeling than an outdoor pee with a beautiful vista or a million shining stars’ and a porta potty experience is the exact opposite and is close to hell for me. These cont(c)raptions are a necessary evil though.
Who can forget queueing up for an ablution in one of these at a rock concert, every one bursting to go and you’re going to be sharing bottom sweat and smells with the people in front ,some of them take forever and prey that no one had a hot vindaloo last night. The people behind you are the worst though, coz they’ll be straight in after you before the fragrance has cleared, but you cant keep them waiting too long. Once inside you feel like an astronaut in a capsule, claustrophobic and running out of oxygen. An experience I’d cycle miles to avoid.
You might not believe this but there is an Australian movie about a guy who runs a porta potty business and he visits the USA to check out your toilet technology. Good luck with the accent combined with a speech impedement. See below