When I walked into Wayne's computer room this afternoon, I found him chuckling out loud as he looked at the screen in front of him. What's so funny? I asked. I'm going to blast some port-a potties was the reply. Tell me that doesn't conjure up some weird images in your mind; it did in mine. Had those pesky birds abandoned the pigs and focused their anger on a Johnny-on-the-Spot? Was he going all terrorist on me and planned to bomb Port-a-Johns?
The truth is he was reading an email from the Kansas Underground Salt Museum, a cavernous salt mine we toured with Wayne's folks several years ago. It's a pretty cool place. There are vast areas devoted to the storage of everything from documents to seeds (to protect against disease wiping out crops we depend on for food) but there are also areas focusing on the history and mechanics of salt mining. And there's a big Events Center too where they host dinner theaters and other special events. Since Wayne purchased the tickets online, he receives periodic emails from them.
And the latest one was for a fundraiser...for bathrooms. It's not as those there are no restrooms down there; there are some but they're located near the elevator everyone rides the 650' down to the mine. Unfortunately, that's a long ways from the Events Center and they rely on port-a-potties. You can imagine the logistics and cost of adding restrooms to an already-excavated salt mine so they're seeking donations.
So why is this all worth a chuckle? Because they've cleverly captioned their fundraising campaign as "Blast the Port-a-Pots," complete with a couple of sticks of dynamite superimposed on a picture of a Port-a-John. Obviously, they won't be exploding the real things, especially underground, but I'll bet the donations would roll in quicker if the donor's name was entered in a drawing and the winner had the honor of setting off the charge to blow up one of those blue boxes above ground. Cleaned, of course. Maybe I'll suggest that.