the porta-potti.

i don’t really like sleeping with other creatures these days or these years. i love other creatures, just not in my house and certainly not in my bed. i’m ok with house-plants, although not generally in my bed, but that’s about it. the problem is i wake up feeling like i’ve got a vice-grip on my head and not the cheap plastic type: a real good industrial one.

it hasn’t always been this way. when i was much younger there was a brief but memorable period of time during which i actually couldn’t sleep without my girlfriend. apparently, she had no problem sleeping without me. she may have had a problem sleeping without her other guy, but i don’t know. the point is that these issues are learned, conditioned, so i’m sure it can change. in the meantime, i do appreciate living on my own and my preferred form of travel is in a recreational vehicle.

so, had you been wondering where i was this past sunday, you would’ve had to call. because as a matter of fact i was at the ottawa rv show way the heck out at the ey centre. someone did call, apparently from the congo, but i didn’t answer. i love looking at all the rvs: the teardrop trailers, the tent trailers, the class b and c motor-homes, the diesel pushers, truck-campers and so on. i enjoy walking around and through them. however, the high-point of the day was when i ended up showing a couple of lovely old ladies how to use a porta-potti. 

one of the women was short, somewhat fluffy. her friend was tall and thin. together they had kind, friendly eyes, easy smiles and i watched them struggling with one of those things for a while. the three of us had wandered into a small camping trailer at around the same time and they’d pulled the potti out from under a cabinet. the trailer was too small for a bathroom. nevertheless, for twenty-thousand bucks it generously included the porta-potti, something the ladies clearly had never ever seen before, let alone ever used. i imagined they were old friends toying with the idea of going on an adventure together. and i was frankly captivated by the fun they were already having.

while fiddling and trying to understand what it was, however, i watched with amusement as they inadvertently pulled the two sections of the porta-potti apart. they immediately became terribly afraid they’d broken the thing. so at that point i felt i had to inject myself into the situation. i showed them how to easily clip the two parts back together and they were greatly relieved, grateful, and also suitably impressed with my knowledge of such exotic equipment. 

of course i didn’t leave it at that. for their edification i explained what it was and how to use it. they were surprised, fascinated, perhaps even shocked. but they were also clearly amused. so of course i didn’t leave it at that. i proceeded to even give them a demonstration. obviously i kept my pants on, in case you were wondering. but i opened the lid and sat on its well-constructed seat with a flourish as the ladies howled and clutched each other.   

eventually the three of us spilled out of the camper and i noticed the dealership’s attendant out of the corner of my eye. she had a look upon her face as if to say: ‘i do not get paid nearly enough for this.’ and one of the old ladies, still laughing, called back to me: “hey, you should come with us next summer.” but, of course, these days i travel alone. 

one step at a time.

as i lay prone in a dental chair the other day i recalled a tme when i had the job of escorting the rather obese wife of a general up the hill to a dinner-party. 

the dental chair had a weird, slowly gyrating back-rest: kinda like a cat kneading a cushion, preparing a place to lay down. there was soft soothing music playing, of course, which was lost on me, of course. because at that precise moment my dentist was yanking one of the few remaining teeth out of my mouth. and you’d have every right to wonder why any of that would remind me of a long-ago time in india when i escorted the rather obese wife of a general up the hill. 

stone and concrete oversized steps had been recently built into the hillside. they were too big for the lady. they were too big and all together, following the contours of the hill, they snaked up a long way. every step was a challenge for her heavy legs and the journey seemed overwhelming. 

anyway, we got about half-way up when she obviously needed to rest in the worst possible way. the lady was florid-faced and labouring. she grabbed hold of the low branch of a tree to steady herself. then, shifting her position so as to actually lean against the tree-trunk, she let out a huge breath and her dentures, both top and bottom, went flying right out of her mouth. her dentures went flying with a trajectory of a game-winning three-point basketball shot. they landed in the sandy hillside some yards away and, needless to say, i had to go pick them up. yes, and i had to carry them all the way to the top before washing them off under a tap and graciously returning them to their rightful owner. 

so as i recalled the incident at that precise moment: as i sat prone in that dental chair with medieval-looking utensils protruding from my mouth, and recalling how i felt about the incident at the time, i was incredibly humbled. oh i still chuckled inwardly at the memory, but i knew that the joke was as much on me now. and, interestingly, i realized it always had been.