Yesterday's two public, and one private, offerings took a toll on the Crapspotter and as of this post his bowels are mercifully yet to make so much as a peep.
The weather in L.A. is exactly as the guide books describe it and so my wife and I decided to take our little girl for a hike at Will Rogers State Park. After a light breakfast of Buffalo milk cappuccino-flavored yogurt, fresh coconut juice, two homemade chewy oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and a few sips of decaf coffee with non-fat milk, I was a little concerned about my future state of affairs and considered popping a hit of Imodium just to be safe. Fortunately, both the weather and my stomach prevailed and I was able to enjoy a pleasant, anxiety-free morning of hiking with my family.
If ever there was an act of intestinal hubris this was it. So confident in my stomach was I that I didn't even bother to create a mental GPS of the park's four public port-o-potties. That the Turd Gods didn't smite me down on the spot is a miracle and for that I am forever in their debt. In my defense, however, the park does charge a $7 entrance fee per vehicle so I'm guessing that their facilities are above average. I'm not saying I'm not grateful oh Lords of the Light Brown Links, I'm just saying I probably would have been okay.
Driving home there was still not so much as a rumble so I confidently stopped by the Zen Zoo on 26th St. for Green Dragon boba lattes with soy milk.
1 comment:
there's actually a small restroom hut at will rogers. it's the first building you pass after driving into the park. the men's room (the only one i have visited) has one urinal and one crapper. it's rustic but well maintained. but it's not exactly the most private place to drop a load as the stall is the first thing you hit when entering. not great feng shui.
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