Laying in the Road Almost Exactly the Way an Outhouse Wouldn't
We were on Summit Avenue out of Greensboro proper, just after the Browns Summit Road split. We were nearing the crest of a hill on that dark and chilly night when something large and out of place loomed before us in the center of the road bigger than a phone booth, still as night. Sara hit the brakes hard to steer clear of the thing.
"Oh my gosh, that scared me!" Sara says, my own pulse suddenly in the aerobic range. "Should I call the cops? Here's my cell phone, call the cops." she adds. "There is absolutely no way you are going to make me call that in to the police." Choices...you remember the blog about choices? In the end, I stood by my guns and took the easy way out. I'm not proud. Sara on the otherhand did exactly what you knew she would, she circled around to keep an eye on the thing and made some phone calls.
"Hello? Sheriffs office?...yeah...look...I don't know if I should even be calling you about this but I didn't know who else to call and this is a pretty unsafe situation. We are on Summit Avenue, outside of Greensboro just past the Summit Browns Summit road split...yes... my number? (she gave him her cell phone number) You see, there's a port-a-john in the middle of the road lying on its side....right, no sh*t....Oh, sorry, no pun intended...Oh, OK. I'm in a green Ford F-150. No sir, I'm not making this up. You're going to pass it on to Greensboro City Police? ...I see...its just that we're not in Greensboro proper. Oh ok.... Is this Greensboro Dispatch? Yeah, like I was just telling the Sheriffs office, I'm out on Summit Avenue past the Browns Summit split....Its not in Greensboro...Yeah, anyway, there's a port-a-john lying in the middle of the road and it could be a hazard to passing motorist.....No sir...I'm not kidding...Yes sir, as things to find in the middle of the road, this one stinks....I just don't want to leave it. Someone might hit it. Yes, I imagine that would put them in a serious mess... You're going to send an officer? Ok. Should I hold on? Ok, thank you..."
She hangs up the phone. "I think they think I'm sh*tting them." We both have to start giggling at this point when she corrects herself, "I mean I don't think they are taking me seriously." "What kind of crappy attitude is that for the police to take?" We pretty much giggled til someone showed up to do something about it. We sat there in the middle of the road, lights shining on the crime scene, emergency flashers on so that other drivers don't find themselves in a bad situation. (Aren't you glad I didn't make a poop joke there? I get more mature every stinking day.)
And that right there is why I didn't call the police, even though it was the right thing to do. At any rate at the bottom of the hill was a construction site, and since we figured the object in question came from there we road back down the hill and called the number on the construction sign. I'm not 100% sure they believe her either, but the man that ran the construction company arrived before the police did, and his son soon after. They all stood around and marveled at the sight of a port-a-john laying on its side 100 yards up the hill from the construction site it used to sit correctly on.
The officer toggled his radio, he informed them that yes, there WAS infact a port-a-john in the middle of the road, and no it did not appear to be occupied at this moment. It was all he could do to keep a strait face while he reported in. Only afterwards did he actually CHECK to see that it was truly unoccupied. I would've knocked first myself, but he took the more direct approached and opened the door with flashlight at the ready. Braver man than I. I think I must watch too much CSI or something. I was spooked by the dark blue liquid that bled from the side of the thing. The blue water is supposed to stay on the inside, much like our own blood. On the other hand if we were to lay on our side, like this jet setting latrine happened to be, we typically wouldn't bleed.
The father, son, and officer donned gloves and slid it to the side of the road. The son then went back to the construction site for a backhoe they could load it up on to return it to its upright position in its starting point back on the construction site.
Sara and I were wigged out the rest of the way home. Who knew what other surprises were poised to dump on us that night...
