The thing you learn quickly on these boats is that there is ABSOLUTELY NO privacy. There's ONE bathroom with a plywood door. Naturally, my bunk bed was RIGHT ACROSS from the crapper. I'd never heard the term "Shameless" until I came across this site, but I think that house boat helped me understand the concept.
Some people (like me) would wait for the best moment to do one's business, like when everyone else was sitting up on the roof of the boat, or on land getting supplies. But NOT Mrs. S-----. I'm laying there on my bunk in the middle of the day and she hits the bathroom. Plop! Plop! She's Shameless. No humming, radio playing. Just loud plop.
The other thing you should understand about these houseboats is that back in those days they dumped the crap directly into the lake. Seriously. You pushed a button and a brown Ragu sauce hovered on the surface as if Big Foot had gotten caught up in the propellers of the Titanic. I'm sure they don't let you do that nowadays, but back then they treated the toilet like a garbage disposal in your sink. Down the hatch!
The most notable memory of this expedition occurred when yours truly had to do his business. I was about fourteen years old at the time and was just discovering my interest in the opposite sex. I thought I was pretty cool in my bleached blond hair, cutoff jeans, and Dukes of Hazard t-shirt. I must have looked stupider than Justin Timberlake with that mulatto perm and bowling visor.
Anyway, this girl named Karly from the next campsite was REALLY cute, and for some reason she apparently thought I was just adorable -- she must have had a low IQ, and is probably living in a van down by the river as we speak.
So I finished pooping, and I hit the dung mulch button and came up to hear Karly screaming, "I'm swimming out here!"
There's a nasty swell of mutant lava whirlpooling its way toward Karly, and she is swimming away from it as fast as possible. And of course there I am, the obvious culprit, standing there, wishing I hadn't hit the button.
There's nothing like a swirling foam shower of alien swill to put the skids on an emerging puppy love. I have trouble flushing the toilet to this day -- I'm afraid that it will cascade out into my lawn and into the pool.
-- by Sits On Bowl [1]