Horrifying Journey

By: Angela Gillaspie © 2000, 2001

The door slammed in my face and the latch slid to the locked position. Immediately the foul odor of cheap antiseptic, urine, and Lord-knows-what filled the thick warm air around me. I swallowed quickly while trying to remain calm. I was going to survive this - I had to! My husband and children were depending on me.

I tried not to look down, but my eyes were drawn to the small oval opening. Holding my breath, I peered down and saw still aqua-blue water. Whitish lumps broke the surface reminiscent of dead bleached-out jellyfish lying hapless on the shore. I pulled my gaze away -- daring not to look further for fear of what I knew was lying beneath the shiny liquid's covering.

I closed my eyes and thought to myself, "I have to do this - there is no other way!"

Looking up, a yellowed ambient light reflected from the white dome two- to three-feet above my head. The heat was getting worse and all four of the dirty gray walls were just inches from me. Vertigo kicked in and this small gray world became topsy-turvy.

Reaching out, I touched the greasy walls to steady myself and suddenly in one hot gush, my bladder released its contents.

Relief ... or was it?

I cleaned myself as best I could, thumping my head on the door as I attempted to bend over. I fumbled with my jeans and finally got them buttoned, praise God. My breath rasped through my mouth as I tried to not inhale the stench and remain calm at the same time.

Pushing on the greasy gray door, it finally gave way and I exploded from my coffin. I staggered three steps and allowed myself to deeply inhale the fresh air.

My husband suddenly appeared, handed me a soda and remarked, "Did everything come out all right?"

Gasping and glaring at him, I cried, "It was awful!"

He asked, "Daggum, honey, it's just a port-o-potty! Want some pop corn?"

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