How 'bout a courtesy flush, please?!

Okay, last blog for possibly a while.
Today started out mundane. I just didn't have any pep in my step. None of the songs on the radio got me in the mood to workout. I went anyway and met Susan at the Y. No T'knesha, but you'll read about that when you pan down the list. I don't believe it was the rain, just the cold that took it out of me.

Remember all that health food I ate a few days ago. I managed to run a coworker out of the restroom before she even got in the doorway. I apologized to her, citing that someone had moved the magic spray can out of the stall and onto the counter before I realized it. But I did spray afterward. She said she would go ahead and wait until all the aromas had evaporated. Agreeing, I instructed her to check the second stall when she goes back in there because the person that was in there with me may have succumbed to the fumes and passed out. She laughed. I was serious. If it weren't for my immunity, I would have passed out too.

Even the guys in my shop share bowel movement stories with enthusiasm and pride. One gives full reports. The other just brings the stink back with him. Their exchange often reminds me of my days in the Corps. When we were on field operations, sometimes we wouldn't have the luxury of a toilet muchless a can of deoderant at your disposal. One place was an actual base in the desert. We had a "head" - bathroom for you civilian. A community shower and a row of 10 or 12 toilets. No stalls, just toilets. Yes, you could be doing a number two when someone else could walk in and sit a few johns down from you doing their business, if not right next to you. It was awkward at first, but we got use to it. Soon you're trading recipes. In bootcamp we had stalls, but we weren't allowed to close the doors. One girl did and the Drill Instructor kicked it off the hinges and it landed on her head as she sat there. Needlesstosay she ran out, trousers around her ankles, refreshed and with a new sense of purpose. I don't think I peed for two days.
The heads we had in Thailand were a luxury of sort. The construction guys were nice enough to make an elevated platform with 5 separte stalls. You could see a person's feet and their head if they were standing, so they were just tall enough to cover you as you sat. Toilet seats on legs were positioned ever so cautiously over a large hole in the floor. An industrial strength trash can liner tucked under the seat and extended down to the 50 gallon drum below was the best part. Because before sitting down, you had to kick it a few times to get all the flies to fly out. And when you sat, you just hoped one wasn't a slow flier. At remote sites, its just you and you're entrenching tool. Find a place to cop a squat and pray the wildlife stays at bay. The challenging moments are usually on the side of a mountain where you focus is split between balance and a straight shot so you don't hit your boot. I had thighs of steel, I tell ya. I never had a problem, but one girl gave the infantry a show one night, due to them having NVGs - Night Vision Goggles. She would have never know if they hadn't started hooting and hollering.
Oh well. Those snipets of my career may seem horrible to you but those were some of the best days of my life out there. I'd do it again. But I can't and won't go back for a memory. I'll just make new ones with you all.
Hope I didn't gross you guys out too much. Just felt like reminiscing a little. I'll miss seeing you guys at the meetings. Til then, "How 'bout a courtesy flush!"