On shit

These sewers run underground around the entire city. Cities upon cities all over the world with sewer systems. People shit and flush it down and with the gallon of water it travels farther than you'd ever imagine. Your shit, my shit, everyone's shit, has traveled everywhere. Anywhere. Public restrooms. Restaurant toilets. Hotels. Theme parks. Libraries. Hospitals.

If I could track all the shit I've flushed away at Dunkin Donuts across New England, that would be something incredible. Is my shit in Portland still? Or has it made it's way down to the Hamptons in New Hampshire? Is my shit soaking in a pile of other shit that maybe includes some famous person's shit too? Is my shit decomposing with Paris Hilton's shit? Does Paris Hilton even shit? I will assume it comes out covered in diamonds and fur.

The point is, shit is something we hardly think about past the bowl. Once it squeezes its way into that dark ceramic hole, we no longer think of it. Our only thoughts are "I have to shit" then "where can I shit?" and then "go down, go down.... ok good." and that's it then its gone forever. Into the sewer systems. This amazing other world underneath the grounds we walk and drive on. We all drive above our own shit. All day long. Unless, you live in the suburbs, where you have septic tanks.

This is where my thought came to me, sitting in my mother's window seat, reading my Chuck Palahniuk book. I stopped to take in the disturbing chapter I had just read, and as I gazed out into the back yard from the second floor window, I noticed the small round slab of concrete in my yard. This is the lid to our septic tank. This is where they stick that giant tube attatched to the huge tanker truck and suck the shit out of our overflowing pool of waste.

I play frisbee and catch in that yard. I lay out for a tan in that yard. I do all these things without even noticing I'm doing them on top of my own pile of shit. How crazy is that?

And.. who these people are- the ones who work for the septic tank cleaning business.. the ones who hold onto the giant suction hoses with those eagle-proof gloves on.. who are they? and what to they tell people who ask them at a cocktail party "So, Mark. What do you do for a living?"

Do they respond "I suck shit out of peoples back yards." or do they have some fancy code name for it? Like "waste management" or something? I wonder these things.. but I'm just too lazy to look them up.