Adventures of a Power Ranger

This weekend, went snowmobiling at a place about 30 miles east of Park City, aka "the boonies." The first thing we saw when we pulled up was a beautiful fleet of snowmobiles. Behind that fleet was a giant tent-like structure with an "office" inside (aka a cash register used to precisely determine your ability to pay, then suck all discretionary funds from you), a fake fire in the middle of the room, and a wide array of helmets, goggles, snowsuits, gloves, etc. After donning our sweet helmets, I commented that we all looked like Power Rangers (good guys), while Tom held true to his theory that anyone riding a snowmobile looks like a bad guy. Despite our differences in opinion, we made nice and hopped on the same snowmobile for our adventure.

Before departing on our guided, two hour snowmobiling adventure, I briefly considered using one of the two Port-a-Potties next to the office. However, my queasiness and hatred of all things unsanitary got the best of me, and I determined that I should be safe for the next 2.5 hours or so.

1.5 hours later, we stopped at a scenic outlook. The tour guide mentioned that we could sit inside the "lodge", which was more than slightly suspect and had an interesting 'aroma', or use the "bathrooms" on the side of the lodge. By "bathrooms", the tour guide was referring to the single Port-a-Potty ("chamber") conveniently dumped to the side of the lodge. Grudgingly, I got in line, and tried to pep talk myself into entering the dreadful chamber. When I had only a couple more people in line in front of me, I exited the line, told Tom "I can't handle this emotionally," and excused myself.

Seven minutes later, I found myself returning to the now very-short line, and realizing that using the chamber would be my best alternative given the circumstances. When it was my turn to enter, I realized that the "door" of the chamber was immobilized by piled snow. That meant that you could neither widen the entrance to enter the chamber, nor close it whilst accomplishing the task at hand. [I wonder if a fat person could sue for insufficient and discriminatory facilities.] Additionally, the chamber had three different signs on the outside:

1 - "No parking" within 22 ft or 7 meters, for which I suppose I should be grateful for (given the privacy provided by the open door),

2 - "Clean Portable Restrooms" where portable is certainly true and "clean" is certainly a lie, and

3 - "Hand sanitizer inside", which is also fundamentally untrue.

Let the record show, however, that I am a woman of much strength. I shed all clothing articles that could possibly hang down or inadvertantly become immediately disposable after making contact with the chamber's interior, squeezed my way past the door and two protruding screws whose purpose was to shred any unsuspecting skin or clothing with which they made contact, searched frantically for the promised hand sanitizer, and washed my hands with snow after the deed was complete.

Who would have thought that the most adventurous thing I'd do on a snowmobiling adventure expedition would be to use a Port-a-Potty?