How can everyone be so blindly gleeful about last weekend? I thought
it was painful to say the least.

We come to the gate and are given these wonderful wrist bands with
three digit numbers (mine was 157). I looked at the band and felt so
safe. As I arrived at the greeter station I saw the glorious out-
houses and was instantly aroused. I could feel a great comforting whiz
coming. As I opened the door you could not imagine my surprise. There
was another three digit number written on the stall wall. I didn't
match my number. Odd I thought as I let the door slam back in place.
Well at least there is another one beside it. Surely, my number will
match but holy shit batman it didn't match either.


I slowly to stepped away and began to ponder the totality of my
dilemma. I immediately jumped back in the shuttle and was whisked away
to the next set of out houses. Door after door I opened and let slam
desperately searching for #157. Soon I began to realize that maybe
there wasn't a #157 out house and that I was destined to hold it in
all weekend.


I ran from row to row of out houses never finding my number.
Distraught is not close to what I was feeling. I asked every Ranger I
saw what to do and they just dismissed me as a stoned hippie freak.
The man is so harsh sometimes.


Needless to say I never found my assigned out house. I spent the whole
weekend in terrible pain. Then I heard that someone else had been a
huge pain in the ass all weekend so I thought maybe I had found a
brother suffering like me. No such luck. It was just BuBba JoHn. But
as I was leaving Monday I noticed that the last three digits on his
license plate were 157.


Sorry for taking the industrial sized shit in your front seat BuBha
JoHn, I hope that is not the reason you will not be back next year to
Tfus.


fragile turtle