#portapotty

Foreman Daniels oversaw 50 guys at the new building construction site. It was up to him to ensure that everyone’s work got done and on time. He knew if he didn’t yell at some of them that their work would never get done. He was well known by everyone for his loud and constant farting. It was as if he had a trumpet in his ass. He never cared though since it was just guys.

Today however, it wasn’t just gas that he needed to expel. It was around 10am and by that point, the cups of coffee and greasy breakfast had forced many of the guys to line up at the porta pottys to empty out. Everyone in line joked around since the porta pottys did little to buffer the sound.

As one man walked out, someone said, “hey Johnson, was an airplane in there with you?” Everyone laughed and Johnson said “Fuck off” and laughed too. Foreman Daniels was 8th in line for the 3 porta pottys. As he stood in line he let off loud and wet farts.

“Everything all right?”, one of the guys said to Daniels as he ripped a series of farts for over 20 seconds. “Yeah”, Daniels said, “the train is ready to leave the station”. He rubbed his stomach some. Usually when he had to go it wasn’t too bad but last night’s beers had got to him.

With one guy in front of him, Daniels was clenching with all his might. No way he was going to shit himself in front of all the men he oversaw. Finally the middle porta potty became available and he raced in.

Before shutting the door he already had his pants and buckle undone. In one Swift move he dropped his pants and collapsed onto the seat. Loud diarrhea fell into the pit below. Daniels knew he would be in there a while with these beer shits.

I wasn't loving my shoddy work so here is a new one

Nationally, portable toilets are a $2 billion business. Construction rentals are three-quarters of New York’s market, and as America’s real-estate sector has rebounded over the past half-decade, the industry has exploded. Developers pay $100 a month for a pump truck to visit once a week and hoover up blue-tinged waste. Profits are made by building dense routes: lots of toilets at a stop and lots of job sites close together. Events are a growing corner of the business. Go to Smorgasburg and count the toilets: Daily rentals run about $225 each. Use a luxury restroom trailer with flushing toilets at an upstate wedding? It cost the bride’s parents a few thousand bucks just for the night.

You can’t get denser routes than in New York City, which makes it a major prize. But the market is a nightmare to navigate — traffic, tolls, angry unions, toilets that need to be lowered by crane from skyscrapers. A small group of competitors controls the industry: “the big five.” Mr. John is clean-cut and corporate. Abe Breuer, a wiry Hasidic Jew, runs John to Go from Rockland County. A Royal Flush owns the special-events market and enjoys an enviable 7,000-toilet contract with New York Road Runners to clean up after nervous, caffeinated runners. Johnny on the Spot is now part of a national chain. Over a four-decade career, Charlie’s Call-a-Head has held its own.