My fear of Port-a-potties is on par with my fear of flying monkeys. Actually, it might be bigger, since my chance of ever encountering a flying monkey in my life is pretty slim. However, any time I set up at a festival, there's a fifty-fifty chance that I'm going to have to deal with a Port-a-potty. I'm telling you, they should offer some sort of antibacterial shower at the door, shouldn't they? Or possibly a priest.
So, at the Oktoberfest this weekend, a couple went into the Port-a-potty together. No, honestly. They went in together, giggling, and I almost screamed in sheer terror. The only place that might be less romantic would be a morgue. No, even that would be more romantic.
Okay, just thinking about it has given me the ickies. I have to go and shower now.