The most horrible thing happened.

I don’t even know how to process this…  But this happened this morning.

It got cold.  Real cold.  Early in the morning, sun has just crested.  You can see your breath.  Now, I gotta take a leak so I run into this Porta John.  As I start to relieve myself, this evil steam rises up from my stream.   This steam comes up to my face, and I’m trying to get my face away from it… and I’m mid flow so I can’t just disengage.  So I’m trying to pull my head back away from this Piss Mist, but it’s filling the Porta John now.  There’s no escape.  So all I can do is hold my breath until I finish.
Well, I finally finish so I quickly zip up and break out of there.  I bust out the door and take a deep breath.  Filling my lungs with fresh air all the sudden.  Cold air.  Causes me to cough.  I look up, and there’s a dude standing there that had been waiting to use the Porta John himself.
He just looks at me.  “Judas man, if it’s that bad maybe I don’t need to go in there.”

This cracked me up… I was laughing all morning about it.

7 thoughts on “The most horrible thing happened.”

  1. Back in the winter of 96 I was a poor Albertan oilfield slob working a line of wells right on the Alberta/Saskatchewan border. It was a wretched job in the winter; the wells froze up all the time and I found myself wrenching engines, screaming at contractors, thawing out frozen plumbing and calling in flush-by’s.

    One day we hit -41 C and right on schedule the engine calved at 3 of 10. I called in Scrawny the the field mechanic because that engine was POOCHED. So Scrawney and I are working away when he suddenly has to take a dump. This is flat prairie land and the only place he can go is outside. So out he goes.

    He is in those one-piece Bulwark nomex snuggies with the reflective stripes all over it and he has to peel right out to do his business – which he does. I am inside the engine shack when I hear Scrawney making a ruckus and asking ‘Where did that chit go?’ Apparently he took a dump, suited back up – but there was no mess left behind.

    It turned up in the hood of his snuggie just after lunch the next day.

    If ya gotta take a dump outdoors, boys…caution is the order of the day.

  2. A skid I can is meant for a maximum of 10 workers for one week. Last winter, unloading a ship on the bulk dock, we had 9 Port Employees, 12 Stevedoring employees and 27 truck drivers per shift x 2 shifts. We had been working three weeks straight, round the clock, without a sign of the honey dipper. There was no blue water, just a soggy, viscous looking, mottled brown stalagmite rising almost to the seat. When necessity demanded a visit, I sat down and discovered the horror: an empty box of Ritz crackers, the paper cracker tubes and crumbs where someone had perched there and eaten.

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