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The things we do... [Jul. 13th, 2009|04:13 pm]
This is one I started a ways back and never finished. I feel the need to post, but am feeling very undertheweatherish. Which three days of partying and intense socializing had nothing to do with. Okay, the socializing wore me out.

During one memorable season at Virginia Faire, our ahem, sanitary facility provider, failed to show up on Memorial Day morning to clean out the weekend's, ahem, activity. And boy, they needed to. And our CEO made ten thousand screaming phone calls and finally got a service person there, but we're firm believers in division of labor and at this point it was after opening, so I needed to get the sucky-truck (as we professionals call it) on site and to each blue box without running over patrons and causing as little "hey, what's that big blue Sucky Truck doing in the middle of a 16th century village?".

I was already in full costume dress, so I escorted the truck around. The weather was less than lovely, so the patrons were thin on the ground, and in a way I was glad, but in the "oh, if I'm going to be weird/get hurt, I'd just as soon someone get enjoyment out of it" way, I was a little sad, 'cause it was funny. There I was, all 16th centuryish, striding through the village, followed at my heels, not by a greyhound, but by the Big Blue Sucky Truck. Thank goodness Pyratelady noticed.

This year, no one witnessed the funny. It had to have been funny. But it was days before opening. And I had taken a vacation day (yep, I take several vacation days to get the damn faire open. Days when I could be visiting Cape Cod, getting drunk in New Orleans, snorkeling in St. John, doing my laundry at home...sorry, who let out my inner four year old?) to finally take care of the things I needed to get done. As opposed to any other day on site when I spend the day resolving everyone else's stuff. Even the soft tap of a kitten's paw becomes maddening when it is CONSTANT. So I have to go on a day when no one else is there.

Which also meant I was the only one there when the Blue Box Distributing Truck arrived. And we did not have the A-Team this year. Definitely the B Team. Which meant that the map was not enough. I needed to ride along and point to exactly where they had to go. So, the first funny: thank goodness I speak redneck! Even southern redneck missing many teeth - a dialect I'm not fluent in, but can manage.

Second funny: The mountain of trash I had to climb into in order to get into his truck to guide him around. Fast Food bags and Wasps, mostly. Why he had a half dozen dead wasps in his truck cab, I do not know. I lost interest in pondering that when I realized that the Windshield Wiper Fluid bottle at my feet was NOT filled with the usual blue, or even orange wiper fluid, but with yellow. Yes, yellow. And it was FULL. Like what was he waiting for before he threw it out, I thought.

But then the irony washed over me like the fumes of a paper mill passed on the highway. He's peeing into a bottle. (And not an easy bottle, either, which instantly made me regret shaking his hand. THIS is why I don't like to touch strangers. But, even more, his JOB is to drive around, pick up and deliver portapotties all day. He's got a truckload full of...toilets. And he's peeing in a bottle.

I was reveling in the funny of that. But that got knocked out of me when it was time for the "oh, god, I wish someone could see me, because from my viewpoint it sucks bigtime, but I bet someone could get a laugh if they could see it" moment. Because the Handicapped Blue Boxes were bigger than his liftgate. So, he needed to operate the liftgate while someone else balanced the Big Blue Box and kept it from falling off the gate while it was being lowered.

Oh, I did look around frantically for someone else, but no, that someone was me. And I wanted to ask Toothless Bottle Pee-err how he had planned to do this if I hadn't been there. But at the time I was holding, above my HEAD, a Big Blue Box, already filled with the blue water (ah yes, already filled. Who's idea was THAT?) trying to keep it from falling off the damn liftgate onto...ME.

And let me tell you. Those sunuvabitchs are heavy. And sloshy. And slidey.

And I warned him, as he started lowering the gate, that I couldn't hold it and if it started to go, I was abandoning ship and letting it go. And he said (and here I translate) "Wall, I dunno, them's splash pretty good, so maybe you can jest hang in thur."

I hung on there, digging my size ten feet into the ground, bracing that sunavabitch with every ounce of my 190 pounds. I am not a petite flower. And I shove an ornery ox around with ease. And knock a draft horse off balance and off of my foot.

But I never, ever, want to wrestle a handicapped portapotty ever again.

And no one saw it.

[User Picture]From: thatliardiego
2009-07-13 09:13 pm (UTC)
When the price of gas drives NASCAR out of business, you may have invented a new sport for the toothless redneck class.
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[User Picture]From: im_geva
2009-07-13 10:25 pm (UTC)

Only you.

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[User Picture]From: stonethrow
2009-07-14 12:28 am (UTC)
I saw the first event. I think the quote was hey did that truck just drive through the dance set? I answered no, considering it had a dance partner - it was participating.

Also, if they wanted them pumped - they could deal.

I wish I had seen the second. - Ok not really. It would have been interesting.
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[User Picture]From: sestree
2009-07-14 01:46 am (UTC)
Sugarkins you shoulda called

I'm fluent in redneck and hick both with a secondary in trailer trash. I'da told him "you git yer assa behind this hear waggin and I'll pursh dem buttons and dom't make me call yer mama 'bout dis --- wait dis yer piss? lord'vemercy".

ummm yeah.
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[User Picture]From: queenmaggie
2009-07-14 04:30 pm (UTC)
Better thee than me!
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