The Black Tank Fiasco
What’s a little fecal matter between friends?
When I was first considering going full time in a trailer, my absolute biggest fear in the world was dumping my tanks. And how do I deal with high stress issues? I fucking ignore them for as long as I can before I have no other options left. I remember the first time my dad asked me if I’d cleared the tanks, and when I said no, he laughed and laughed in that annoying, just-wait-til-you-do way he does that drives me fucking nuts. So, the first time I dumped my black tank at a very busy Pilot station, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was really no big fucking deal. Pulling the trailer in was a bigger deal than hooking up and waiting for the sludge to evacuate. Yeah, a little stinky, but generally nothing to have a heart attack about. For the last two years, I’ve had a pretty positive relationship with my black tank. Albeit, I keep the hoses in good working condition and use common sense. So when I rented an RV in Australia for the Mundi Mundi Festival, I thought it’d be just like the trailer. Boy was I so fucking wrong.
I rented a six berth Class C motorhome from CheapaCamper in Melbourne. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, it says “cheap” in the fucking business name. Well, I can assure it, as low class and miserable as the motorhome would prove to be, financially it was NOT cheap by any means. When I picked it up, they simply handed me the keys and sent me on my way. That’s it. I can’t imagine how many people with zero camper knowledge just drove off the lot like they’re driving a Camry but alas, there I was, driving off the lot with no idea what things did what or where they were. I’d prviously mentioned the importance of us going over the unit and where everything was before leaving on a week long trip to the middle of nowhere but because one of the people I was traveling with can’t be told a single fucking thing, I never had a chance to go over the equipment before tearing off down the road. That night I pissed in the bathroom for the very first time. This would prove to be the beginning of a huge and disgusting problem.
The time in the motorhome was one of the worst experiences of my life with no working heat in 32° weather, no microwave, wonky fridge all due to a faulty 240V breaker, and a broken sky light that pulled freezing temps through the main compartment whenever driving. As if that wasn’t enough, on the second day, I noticed a foul smell being emitted from the toilet. I’d thrown in prescribed detergent bags but they seemed to be making absolutely no difference; I was convinced they just needed time to work. On the next drive I noticed a trail of “water” coming from the compartment and at that moment decided it was best that none of used the toilet for the rest of the trip. Well, one of my travel companions decided that while the rest of us would refrain, he’d continue to use it for the rest of our trip. He’d get up from his bunk and piss with the door open with no regard for anyone else. So there we were, three people traveling through the middle of nowhere with one man pissing away to his heart’s content into a non-functioning traveling toilet. The smell grew and the leak spread with every kilometer. The stench was almost unbearable but there were no options but to endure.
The morning of my departure, I was greeted with torrential rains and hurricane force winds. Checking out from my little muddy RV park after another night without power, I seriously considered leaving the toilet issue for the rental company. But faced with a $55 dumping fee after all the other things that had gone wrong with our RV, I refused to pay another dime on principal. I backed into the small dump area, maneauvering in a 12 point turn in order to reach the awkward hole with the teeniest of tiny hoses provided to me. I hooked up to the drain and turned the dial but nothing came out. I took to Google to find that this particular model did not have a black tank but rather a cassette and with a little help from YouTube, located it. So there I am standing in the pouring rain in ankle deep mud locating the black “cassette” on the side of the RV. I opened the door and immediately knew this was going to be a terribel fucking experience.
Armed with no gloves, I reached into the hole and grasped the handle. I pulled. Nothing happened. I could see the clasp I needed to clear but it felt like something wasn’t lined up. I stood there a moment in the soaking rain thinking fuck this but tried again. Nothing. After vacillating back and forth for several minutes, I committed to the task come hell or high water. I braced my feet in the mud in a shooter’s stance and wrapped both hands around the handle. I pulled as hard as I could, knowing this tiny box was filled with a week’s worth of someone else’s piss and shit. Still nothing. I pushed back and then pulled. This went on at least five times before something inside lined up and the cassettte came flying out along side about a gallon of dark green colored shit water. The water splashed across the side of the RV, into the cassette hole, and across my hands and arms up to my elbows. I probably got a little shit in between my toes but at that point, who the fuck cared?
There I am soaking wet from rain and piss and shit just thinking about all the times I asked that mother fucker not to use the bathroom, fuming. According to YouTube, you’re supposed to pour the contents into the hole, push the button to help evacuate the canister, and then rinse with water. What in the fuck?! I’d never heard anything so vile in my entire life. I’m just supposed to pour the shit in the hole and then rinse it out like it’s a fucking cup of soda?! So here’s a plastic box with a six inch diameter hole and nothing keeping me from spilling more shit on myself. I poured the contents down and grabbed the hose to spray this fucker out, but instead I discovered another facet to the whole cleaning thing: blowback. Just like the thousands of times in my past when I went to spray out a pan, I found myself now being sprayed by a fine mist of reflected shit water in my eyes and across my lips. I immediately turned the hose on myself and drenched my entire head and neck to the point of hoping I actually drowned. I turned the hose on the camper, spraying the sludge out of the side compartment and decided that was fucking it for me. I jammed the cassette back in and ran to the public showers in an attempt to erase the last 15 minutes of my life but nothing ever would.
Five hours later, I checked into my hotel room, a five star suite connected to the airport. Why? Becuase I’d fucking earned it. I stripped my wet clothes off before the door could close and grabbed some $15 cashews from the display. I pulled the most expensvie bottle of wine I was smuggling home from my bag. I turned the shower on as hot as it would go and with tears in my eyes and the feeling of shit water on my lips still, I took a 45 minute long shower, standing under the rain showerhead, pouring cashews into my mouth hungrily and drinking a $40 bottle of shiraz by the neck.