In the 21th century, our society became so advanced that robots can now talk, and travel to Mars became possible. And so it surprises me that in such an advanced society, we still lack normal toilets. My dislikeness of public toilets started from a young age. The wide known “Port-a potty” is developed necessity to have in isolated areas. Many people including myself have developed a fear of these boxes from either the peculiar smell, catastrophic trait, or just the uncomfortability of ending up in one.

When you got to go, you got to go. But how can you go inside a box, with stuffy air, not sealed to the ground, and an unflushable toilet. Id rather go to take care of my business in an unfamiliar forest and to be at a risk of getting poison ivy, than a nearby port a potty. I’ve heard that poison ivy can be cured by tomato juice, but the nightmares of the Port-a potty will forever haunt you. For once, I witnessed in a carnival setting a very unfortunate incident. The overpopulated people crowded the grass plain, while skyrocketing rollercoasters blinded their eyesight from the perpetrating sun. This image was also available to me, as for I was exploring the roller coasters with my mom. I was brought to a feeling of excitement and fear at the same time as I went from one roller coaster, to another. For that man however, using the port a potty, only brought a sense of fear. I remember when I was waiting in line to use the bathroom when my usage was delayed because of this ridiculous incident. Whether the people who bumped into the box the man was occupying were sober of not sober, I really have trouble remembering. But all I saw further on were a bunch of phones being pulled out, and commotion surrounding the terror. Laughs were mixed with screams, and the terrified noises of that guy, bounced off the four blue walls. I was laughing too with a mixture of trying not to pee myself. What I saw next I really wish I didn’t see, as for that image calls for repulsive vivid imagery in my mind. Some sanitation workers were called and had to physically pick up that box... that still occupied box, and tilt it to its original position.  15 minutes latter, the poor man swung the door in relief and inhaled the freshly oxygenated air. At first I couldn’t quite make up the real color of his skin until it occurred to me, that the napkins he used to wipe himself had patches of brown. The whole facility inside was a mess and people turned around in a repulsive way. I concluded that I didn’t want to pee anymore. Not only has that memory caused me to develope fear but another instance really triggered my nervous response. The uncertainty of the switch of buttons is the reason why I developed trust issues. Turning green when not occupied, or red when occupied seems like a given. But just like a traffic light, some older stalls are stuck in between the colors. And you, the person who is facing a decision to go in the stall and either be relieved of no person occupying it, or be humiliated as you burge in, is constantly facing this decision. But now, the horrible memory haunts you, and the innocent person under the Porta-potty influence. I still remember the old lady looking at me in horror as she reached for the wipes. What grief. The best ones are on a hot July,when that box can be compared to the scent you smell when you walk into a compact dog park that existed for 40 years. One time I remember I traveled to Europe and my family and I went on a stroll. Suddenly my bladder just couldn’t deal with my presence and the substance inside needed to escape. I came inside this white box first thinking “wow it’s white and implemented in the ground, it must be clean.” Boy was I wrong. Not only did the same American conditions apply to this facility, but there wasn’t even a toilet. It was a hole. Just a hole in the ground. What a luxury to be in. I thought the Europeans were supposed to be more superior than us, or maybe that was only in the 19th century and they developed Port -a -pottys when their success fell through the ground. Oh Europe. Perhaps a revolution has to occur that will enable real, substantial, non-smelly, toilets to be in substitution with a port a potty. Until then, catch me at the forest using a leaf.