So, last week I was in paramus, NJ, covering a photo shoot for one of our clients. This particular client has a place right on Rte 17, and so that is where I spent my Thursday and Friday. Standing on the side of a zooming motorway, watching someone take pretty, pretty pictures of a rental car office. Now you KNOW you wish you were me, admit it.
At any rate, I pretty much lived my life for those two days out of a motorhome not unlike this one--
Its where all the magic happens. It's where you eat, where you hang out during down time, and where you use the rest room.
After a pretty stressful week and worrying about the upcoming birthday AND my triathlon next week, I've been all out of whack. Which includes my, er, bowels. Things just haven't been right in the tummy for a while and well, let's just say I've been backed up..so I'm sitting in the motorhome when suddenly I feel activity in my abdomen.
I am not pooing in the motorhome. I'm not doing it. I will hold it until I get home but I am just...not...pooing in the motorhome!!!
First off--this is what the bathroom looks like, for the most part--
It's really tiny, and the door is usually just a sliding accordian type of thing, that doesn't block sound.
In addition, the toilet doesn't actually flush, you just press a pedal down and all the waste falls into a hole below.
And here I am, with three days of poo just DYING to come out and say hello...and I've got nowhere to go, but the motherfucking motorhome.
Thankfully, no one was in the motorhome save the driver, and he was sacked out in the front with his headphones on watching rap videos. He was never gonna know what what was going down. So I stealthily let myself into the tiny little bathroom and hoped for the best.
3 days worth of poo later, I thought I was home free. I tapped down on the pedal with my foot, and voila, all traces of my existence were gone. Easy as pie.
Except for the skidmarks. NO! Not that!!!
Now I was in a bit of a pickle. I could just leave them there, because who would know they were mine? No one saw me go in, right? But in good faith, I couldn't be the girl who skidmarked up the motorhome toilet. I just wasn't comfortable with that.
so I tried a couple times to push down the pedal and see what happened. Nada.
Short of going in and cleaning the toilet myself, what the hell was a girl supposed to do???
Finally, I wet a mound of paper towels and threw it in there, and then flushed it . Voila. It did the trick. I was homefree. Until I saw the sign above the sink. "DO NOT EVER THROW TOWEL IN TOILET. EVER." Great. Not only did I clog up the only toilet with 5 pounds of crap, I now broke it by throwing a big wet ball of paper towels down it.
I ran out of there like a bat out of hell and never looked back. I scrambled down the steps and snuck back to the photo shoot and there I stayed for the next two days.
Motorhome? What motorhome?