If you haven’t yet read Bree’s previous post “Gross, I know!” you might want to do that now or this will make no sense.

I just got done reading it and although a fairly accurate account of our first trip to el stacion del dumpo and the facts surrounding it – there were a few glaring inaccuracies and omissions. It’s funny what we choose to remember.

Though not pertinent to the gist and timbre of the story – OH SO IMPORTANT to the annals of history that yearn for correct and painstakingly accurate information. Information that will undoubtedly wow and inspire future generations when these stories are recounted time and time again over campfires, whispered throughout the halls of academia, and gracing the lecterns and tele-prompters of world leaders needing to inspire nations! (author squints into the distance as sun bounces off chiseled cheek bones).

Let me post the passage in question:
So I came home from work to see my Hubby draining small amounts of black water into an old trash can and walking it into our bathroom to flush. Gross, I know. Well, it’s not that bad. To clarify we had not used the toilet in the RV and it came to us drained. This was for all intent and purposes grey water.

Small amounts huh?
Not that bad huh?
Grey water huh? Really.
It’s funny what we choose to remember.

Cuz evidently Bree’s brain has chosen to block out her christening of the RV commode with it’s number 1 number 2 during our inaugural “Boondocking is Like a Box of Chocolates” weekend outing. Precious.

So make no mistake about it people, small amounts it was not. After inadvertently draining lines into the black water tank it was bursting at the seams full with a veritable poocophany of ick. It was so full in fact that it was leaking into our lower compartment and the pressure needed to be relieved STAT. This is the point Bree found me at. Bucketing poo water. I would open the valve for a split second allowing a gush of stinky mucky bleh into a bucket and then I’d cart it inside the house and flush it down the toilet. It took about 5 trips before the leaking subsided and I could seal up that demented poop hole and go take a HazMat shower. So yeah, sure thing hun – not that bad.

The one other thing that didn’t really get documented – because again the original author was not the recipient of the evil – was at the dump station itself. I had got the dump hose secured into the ground and was about to release the rest of that unholy water into the earth whence it came. There was an air of excitement and anticipation as I poised myself to release the load. Pull bar in hand I felt a power I’d never experienced before. Kids stopped playing, parents necks craned from their chairs strewn across the lawn of beautiful Mission Bay Park – even the bums took pause and looked up from their 40’s.

I gave that lever a triumphant heave and I could hear the Rio de Crapa release and start to rush out. I must have had a look of power and glory on my face at that moment. That look lasted approximately .04 seconds. See cuz that’s about the time it took for poo river to hit the hose, fill it to capacity, put  max pressure on the system, hit the not-visible-to-the-human-eye pinhole and shoot a laser beam of stink water directly into my face. Rad.

So yeah. I don’t know. I don’t know why I found it important to correct these minor omissions of fact and history. Call it a sense of injustice maybe? A sense of not having the entire gravity of circumstances recounted, toil endured, and poo encountered. I don’t know. The one thing I do know is it sure is funny what we choose to remember.

Tally ho…

Disinfected,
Matt

(post photo by milkmit)