Where Chivalry Stops

It's  a beautiful day at Santee Lakes.  The little stream is burbling, the grass is wafting sweet scents of growth, bees are buzzing around the dandelion flowers and at the water's edge. The lovely mottled trunks of the cottonwood trees are alive with the shadows fluttering about from their beautiful, large irregular edged leaves.   The little birds hop about the rocks in the stream, pertly cocking their heads from side to side looking for insects. The sky is pale  blue with drifts of cottony clouds along the western edge of the nearby low mountains.  All is well and peaceful.

But it is 11 a.m., and I have to be out of my reserved space by noon for the next occupant.  That means I must dump my grey and black water holding tanks.  I head around the shaded side of the motor home and see  three gentlemen standing across the narrow drive, exchanging stories.  I reach over and open the compartment that holds my various tools for dumping the tanks.  I pull out the accordioned hose that goes directly from my holding tank outlet into the provided sewer hole for my site.  I have  purposely parked the rig so that this operation will be easy.  

It is then that I notice the men have moved - away one space across the street.  They have placed themselves strategically in a triangle.  Two with their backs to me, and one mostly hidden from my view, except for his eyes.  I smile at him.  He pretends he doesn't see me.  They all look nervous.  I go back to my work.  Emptying the tanks requires implements. I put on my long rubber gloves, my knee pads, and get out the disinfectant.  They watch covertly.  So afraid I am going to take my little old grey head over and ask them to assist.  This is going to be fun! 

 I hook up the flush out hose and run it around the motor home. They watch, now having shifted positions a bit so they all can see.  I ignore them and hook up the accordioned sewer outlet into the provided depository hole.  Then over to the motor home with the other end.  They all move a few feet further away, but I am definitely the focus of their interest.  They want no part of this!  But they gotta watch!  ( Were I  26 and curvaceous, they would probably all be there panting to help!) 

I look around.  They look away.  I take off the cover piece from the motor home sewer outlet by hammering it lose.   Men are strong.  They don't have to hammer this attachment lose.  They shuffle a bit, but do not waver in their determination not to get involved.  I secure the motor home accordian outlet end to the motor home, and pull the black water plug.  

Ka- Thunk- swishshshshsssh.  the black water rushes out and into the drain.

 Curiously, --- at the same time--- the electric meter reader arrives at my meter.  He has worked his way around, and is finally forced to enter my domain to read this meter at the most unopportune time.  He says not a word.  The first thing I see  is his back.  I chat him up--'Hi!  Such a nice day ( smile)  blah blah.  He does not look at me. But he answers non-commitally. I hum a little melody, and wish him a happy day as he leaves.  I sense relief in the fall of his shoulders. 

The black water being emptied, I go inside and continue flushing the tank with fresh water.  Then back outside to release the valve on the grey water.  It tumbles out with even greater force, as the tank is almost full.  Meanwhile, the men across the street are feeling better.  I am almost done.  They look.  I wave and continue my mission.  

When I am almost through, and am winding up sanitized implements, one of the gentlemen passes by on the road, and asks if I need help.  I say " No,  it's such an easy task, I kind of enjoy doing it. "  We both smile and the day is enriched by our exchange.