How Could I Leave This Behind

One post and not too many moons ago, I promised an entry about the inexplicable -- and at times disgusting -- behavior of certain women.

I'm not talking about the women who engage in belching contests with men or anything of the sort. And I'm not even here to tell a story, per se. Rather, I'd like to enlist your help in coming up with answers to questions that have been plaguing me since Saturday evening.

***

Though I hadn't needed to use the nearby "pit" toilet at all by day, as dusk settled in, nature began to call quite clearly. So I asked Washington for directions (he said there were signs) and I made my way to the loo.

[NON SEQUITOR: Times such as this, a certain part of me wishes ill will towards men, for their brazen ability to "go" on a moment's notice -- and not only do they "go," but they do so, rather coldly and matter-of-factly, when their female companions stand nearby in agony. Couldn't you at least share our pain? Is chivalry really so dead?]

But I digress.

I made my way around the bend, paused at a sign indicating "SHOWERS" were to the left, and tried to determine whether or not this was the sign Washington mentioned.

Showers, afterall, are generally near restrooms. Right?

Right?

So I turned left, noticed a small building radiating that familiar stench, and saw another sign pointing towards "SHOWERS," indicating they were up ahead beyond this particular structure.

So this is the pit I thought. The pit of despair.

[You Princess Bride fans know what I'm talking about.]

I heard voices coming from inside the shelter marked "women."

I heard one woman yell "Me first!" as I placed my hand on the door.

And my mistake, dear readers, was in the follow through.

I should not. Should not have opened the door.

What I saw was a hefty women, completely naked. She was only inches from the door with her backside to it, legs spread and back hunched (as though touching her toes).

Suffice it to say I was given quite a view of a rather large -- and rather unattractive -- nether region, made to look all the more unflattering by its position.

"I think someone's coming in," I hear another female say.

Almost coinciding with those words, I picked my jaw up from the pestilence-infested ground, turned my heels, and quickly made for the trail back to my campsite.

***

Later after dinner -- I "held it in" for nearly two more hours -- Washington escorted me to the toilet pit proper, confirming for me that I had indeed gone to the right place (and not some secret campground sex dungeon).

I should add that there were four "pits" inside this structure, all of them offering the privacy of a stall. So anyone doing their "business," ideally, would've been in a stall.

And yet, there was a rather unsettling puddle of water over the floor where the woman had been standing, which caused me to wonder if perhaps she had made the concrete her restroom. Whatever they were doing, I can't for the life of me figure out why it warranted the "Me first!" exclamation.

Washington speculated that perhaps they were searching for ticks.

Your hypotheses are welcome. Though please bear in mind this blog is PG-13.*

*I realize this very post may be breaking the PG-13 rating.