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Here's a story I haven't told because it doesn't have a point, it was just an odd experience, and it involves pooping. Don't say you weren't warned.
One time, I was camping at my land near the shore off Lake Michigan. It was a really windy day, gusting over 30 knots, so I walked down the road to the town park on the shore to see the waves. That's where it hit me, the need to go, now. There was no question of walking back to my camp.
But that was no big deal, the park has a porta-potty, so I availed myself of it. The unusual part was that this particular brand is up on blocks, and has a grate for a floor. With the howling wind blowing in off of the lake, it would gust up through the floor. The toilet paper was flapping around wildly. Tree leaves were swirling through the air around me. The light turned a surreal green as it filtered through the plastic walls. It felt like pooping in a cash-grab booth in the Twilight Zone.
And, uh, this was a big one. It felt like it kept going and going for some time. All the while, the wind kept screaming, the TP was going mad, and leaves were pelting me.
When it was done, I had to catch the toilet paper, and then walk back holding my shorts up, because they were now too loose.
This feels heavily exaggerated, but in a good way. Bravo.