Finding Beauty in the Portable Restroom Experience.
Photo by the StyleShark
Yesterday, I used my Palestinian scarf for something functional. I was attending a large outdoor concert, and I had to urinate. I had to walk to the edge of the property in order to use the portable restrooms that were provided by the festival promoters. As I approached 'the facilities,' I could smell something 'sterile' but also something 'incredibly disgusting.' As if I was standing on the sidelines of a battle between the pungent smell of poo and the cleaning agents that people poo and pee into within portapotties. I covered my nose and mouth with my alternative scarf, as if I was 'actually in the Middle East', and there was a 'massive sandstorm'/fire fight with American troops.
I walked into the portable restroom, and I saw a urinal to the left which had a pipe connecting to the large pool of waste below the toilet seat. I peered down the toilet seat and saw a mountain of feces with a blue tint, matching the royal, synthetic colour of the simulated toilet water. I attempted to hold my breath, but my body's natural desire for air caused me to take in an intense 'whiff' of the excrement of several hundred people. For a moment, I felt like I wanted to vomit, but then I realized that there was beauty in this metabolic breakdown of your body's essential needs. Found beauty in the fact that while I usually 'see people eating' and bond with humanity while sharing feasts...for once I was able to share with 'what comes out of humans.' As if I realized that eating was just a means to this end--pooping.
I looked down at the huge pile of shit stewed with urine, and admired it. For the first time in my life, I felt 'not alone.' I feel like I truly understood that maybe we're all the same. We all eat, we all feel like children, and we all have to poop. A warm smile came over me, as I decided to 'drop a few pieces of love' on top of this pile of humanity. The logs creamed out of my ass hole, as if God had opened up a trendy frozen yogurt shop--no wiping necessary--a clean breakoff executed by my contracting anus. I got up, and saw my two distinct logs piled on top of the blueish brown mound of feces. I paused for a moment, then watched the blue water creep up and tint my defecation. I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself.
I had a little bit more to urinate, so I decided to move around a used-tampon utilizing the force of my urine stream. It floated around somewhat aimlessly until it settled within the mound of feces. It was as if it found its home. It was as if I found my home. I zipped up my pants, took one last look at 'authentic beauty' and exited the portapotty, most likely never to come back again. It made me happy and sad at the same time--much like 90% of life's most meaningful experiences.
On the way home, I saw some portable toilets being transported to what I could only assume was a large music or cultural festival.
It made me feel a little bit better about life. I hoped that some1 else was able to find the beauty that I found when I shared a unique experience with hundreds of people inside of a portable restroom unit.
Sometimes, it seems like ur looking for beauty in all of the wrong places.