We decided to take a trip to a large yearly fair in Maine called Common Ground. Miss Sally had never been, and it was high time she went. So we rented a trolley for the week because the fairgrounds are massive. And Mr. V drove us to the fair.

After fighting the trolley in an attempt to coax violently pound it together with a lot of under his breath (and not so under his breath) cursing. We were on our way. We spent plenty of time looking at beautiful handmade fibers and yarn. I found a lovely 1950’s type apron, and Miss Sally found some beautiful mittens and a few skeins of yarn. We had been there for about 4 hours and decided to eat.

The remarkable thing about this particular fair is the number of food vendors. You can have falafel, gyro, fish and chips, a steak dinner from organically raised Maine beef. There is such a variety of stuff that you might be tempted to try everything.

Anyway, we had stuffed ourselves with fair food and desserts and were finally heading toward the gates when Miss Sally announced. “I need to find the bathroom.” The actual bathrooms were on the other side, but because the Common Ground Fair draws in 60000 people and is spread out over 200 acres, they thoughtfully provide port-a-potties all over the place.

So we do what any ordinary people would do and head to the closest row of port-a-potties. Miss Sally drove up to an empty one and stepped off the trolley. She grabbed the handle for balance, and all hell broke loose.

The trolley leaped forward and to the right, crashing into the port-a-potty in front of it. Mr. V reached for the trolley, and I went to balance Miss Sally. Teamwork in action if there ever was any. A few minutes later, we had the trolley out of the way, and Miss Sally was taking care of her business.

The door to the adjacent potty opened, and a man poked his head out. “Is it safe to come out?”

I was unable to answer because I started laughing so hard. Mr. V was in much the same state holding his sides, doubled over as he gasped, “Yea, it’s safe.”

I wanted to add that I wrote this a while back, but I wanted to publish it on Miss Sally’s birthday. It seemed right somehow.