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With every road blocked, every turn straightened, every orange cone mocking my every attempt, I quit my attempts at driving to my destination and hiked instead. In sandals. Up hill. At noon. In a construction zone.
There I met with a rude, obstructing port-a-potty - a gaudy sunburst color and an equally gaudy smell - that chose that moment to swing it's door open in a lascivious invite.
I didn't enter. Neither did I make eye contact. I simply turned away and hiked my way uphill with a noticeably increased speed.