For Memorial Day weekend, Alex and I took a short trip to Port Aransas with family. I ate junk food and processed meats all weekend, didn't get a hint of a tan because I lathered myself in sunscreen and wore a fishing shirt most of the time, and officially become the designated golf cart driver (thank you pregnancy). My family rented some awesome 6 person golf carts that we drove all over town, and at night were quite the adventure when you have drunk adults screaming directions at you.
Now, for my horror story.
One afternoon when we were on the beach, I drove the golf cart down to the nearest porta potty. I grabbed the golf cart key and hesitantly walked in. I plugged my nose, and tried my hardest not to look down. Suddenly, I heard this high pitch noise, that sounded just like a key falling. Oh yes, I dropped the key in to the toilet. Words can't describe the "Oh crap" feeling I experienced at that moment. Not only was the rental quite expensive, but it wasn't my golf cart to start with. Yep, I was screwed. Now, the horror begins. I proceeded to stare into the toilet searching for the key, but after 10 minutes of staring at the most disgusting things you've ever seen in your life, I gave up. I seriously stood up at one moment, and thought, "Seriously! I'm either in a horror movie or I'm getting punk'd." Thankfully, we were able to get a copy of the key, and I didn't have to make the plunge.
Lesson learned: Don't take anything important in to a porta potty!
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| Playing Banjo w/PaPa |
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| We've got to protect our vampire white skin |
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| The infamous golf cart |
4 comments:
Hi Jesse,
My name is Jane and I'm with Dwellable.
I was looking for blogs about Port Aransas to share on our site and I came across your post...If you're open to it, shoot me an email at jane(at)dwellable(dot)com.
Hope to hear from you soon!
Jane
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