Another day, another social experiment, and me as the guinea pig. Yay! Well, this time the family went to the county fair. My husband, myself and our two-year-old daughter. My husband and I don’t like rides much and our daughter is really too young and small to ride anything. I only went for the funnel cakes and cotton candy. When I was young I didn’t really get anything like that, we never went to the fair. Because of that I act like a kid when I get my cotton candy. I try not to eat it all, but I can’t help it. Gimme, gimmee, gimmmmeee!
The thing about blue cotton candy and blue snow cones and funnel cake with powdered sugar is that they kind of make you look like a slob. Blue gets all over your teeth and lips and the powder gets all over your clothes. Maybe it’s just me, I’m a classy mess. A messy eater. I need napkins and hand wipes and a bath after. In all the fun and sugar high from the junk food I forgot that I look like I just ate a smurf and sneezed in a bakery.
Now another problem, I have to go to the bathroom. While I wait in line for the gross porta potties I ready myself to not look around or breath once I get in there. I am also trying to think of something interesting to say to the woman next to me. That is after all what this is all about. Before I know it I’m next and finally someone comes out and they look like they didn’t just leave a gigantic present for me to enjoy in the tiny, stinky, short term prison.
I open the door and hold my breath, I pull out the toilet paper to cover the seat which I will try not to touch anyway, and I try not to look at the urinal. Gross, why do they have those in there now and why are they so close to my face? I unbutton my shorts and start to pull them down and I feel my phone, that I forgot was in my back pocket, flip out and I hear a plop. Ahhhh! My brain immediately hurts as I wonder whether what I think happened really happened or did I just imagine it. I look down and see a shiny rectangle that I used to call my phone lingering with the local’s DNA and the strong smelling blue liquid that’s supposed to cover up the unpleasant stench. I want to cry, I want to laugh, I want someone else to fix it. But as I stand there and stare at one of the exact places that I never wanted to look I realize I have to get it or leave it. What is my phone worth, not just money but privacy and sentimentality of all the things on there that I hadn’t yet backed up or saved elsewhere like pictures, notes, docs. Will someone else dive in and claim my phone and all the important stuff in it that could screw up my life like bank info, credit card info, or things I don’t even realize are on there.
Ok, I make a decision, something I thought I would never have to do. I have to dig in and get it. Luckily, it’s right on top, my phone didn’t sink far. I remember that I have the plastic bag from the cotton candy in my pocket, I pull it out and put it over my hand. I tell myself I can do this over and over. I tell myself I can’t do this over and over. I ask myself would this ever happened to Jennifer Lawrence. What would she be doing in a porta potty? Stop stalling, all that junk is getting into my phone and becoming one with it. Hurry up! Okay, okay. I think through the plan, I am going to scoop my hand under the phone and lift it out, that way I will get it in one try. But no, then I will have to feel all that, even though it’s through the plastic, what if there’s a hole in the plastic. I examine it on my hand, no visible holes but maybe microscopic holes. Ok, try to stay away from the poo and goo as much as possible, so the new plan is to grab the phone with my index finger and thumb, touching as little of the yuckiness as possible. Ok, that will work.
I take a deep breath, eww, don’t breathe. I hold my breath and realize the only way I’m going to be able to get down in there is if I kneel on the floor. I spread toilet paper down and get on my knees. Just do it! Okay, here I go. My hand goes in and I move to where I can see the phone and I hit it with my thumb and try to grab it but that forces it down further and now I can’t see it. Nooooo, I pull my hand out and just decide I need to get it. I put my hand back in and dig in, about a foot down I can feel my phone and it seems to be sinking, I dive my hand in further and I scoop. Plan B, I’m gonna make this work, there is no Plan C. I’m up to my elbow and I’ve got it. I’ve got my phone, no one’s going to steal my identity, they’d have so much to live up to if they did. Who wouldn’t want to be the hottest girl at the fair; blue teeth and lips, covered in funnel cake powdered sugar and elbow deep in the porta potty. I pull it out and hold it up in victory and the blue goo and yuck drip down my arm to my shoulder and on my shirt and my phone slips and fumbles and falls in the urinal. I laugh, hey piss, you have nothing on me. I pull it out of the urinal and think what my life has become. I try turning the plastic bag inside out over the phone but it’s no use, its everywhere, on both sides of the bag and all over me. The bag didn’t do anything. I try to wipe myself and my phone off with the tissue papery toilet paper as best as I can.
I prepare to walk out of the potty to face everyone in line looking like I just got done painting the Blue Man Group. I open the door and walk out, and a few people gasp, laugh, point. I didn’t realize it was that bad. ‘I dropped my phone, but it’s okay, I got it.” I say and smile, holding it up. Then the laughing and gasping and pointing turn to horrified looks and people leave the line and mothers put their children behind their backs. I hurry off as fast as I can to find the people who love me no matter what I look like.
I see them, they are playing one of the games. ‘Are you ready to go? We should get home, now.”
My husband turns around and says, ‘What the hell happened to you?’ And covers his nose.
‘Well, I dropped my phone in the porta potty and I had to get it, so no one could steal my identity. It was disgusting’ I said.
‘What, did you get it with your mouth?’ he said
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘Did you go bobbing for your phone in the porta potty? Your mouth is blue.’
‘The snow cone.’ I touched my hand to my mouth and instantly regretted it. I spit and spit, but nothing would get the porta potty stink off of me.
‘Can we go home, NOW!’
Let’s just say the ride home was uncomfortable for all of us. I intended to talk to someone and wound up probably traumatizing a lot of people and hopefully they will forget my face and my blue porta potty mouth. But I did say ten words to the potty audience. Mission accomplished!
Originally published at AndiLutz.com