Where to Poop in El Segundo, CA in the age of COVID
“You can sleep right on the beach?!?” I practically screamed when I saw the line of RVs parked along the beaches. It was like the Universe plucked an image from my dreams put it right in front of my eyes. I mean, this city girl was in shock. Shock, disbelief, wonder, what have you. We drove from Seattle to LA. Well actually, we drove from Utah to LA. Because of the massive wildfires it seemed like hugging the west coast was the best route to take. Which is another story for another day. Now along the PCH (Pacific Coast Highway) which also turns into Hwy 1 depending if you’re going from south to north, or north to south. I think it was around Malibu where the smoke haze had lifted and I would see long stretches of RVs parked right on the water. As in an RV park. Not beach parking full of RVs.
We already had accommodations in Venice, a sweet and modern Airbnb right on the canals. But since we couldn't stop along the Pacific Northwest, we were 5 days early. So with fingers twitching and heart racing, I got to googling. And found Dockweiler RV Park in technically Playa del Rey. The blurb on google says "Simple oceanfront RV campground offering showers & laundry facilities, plus picnic tables & hookups." Now I understood hookups to mean a place to charge my teardrop trailer, which meant I could potentially use my juicer, which I can't bear to donate but find it to time consuming to make my own celery juice. And showers and laundry! Sounds totally legit. I was beyond excited. I played around with dates, but couldn't get the full 5 days. Of course, because if you hadn't heard, living outdoors is the new black. And I wish I made all of these accommodations the day before the pandemic lockdowns began in March, but alas.
But I have this belief that burns deep in my heart, and and this burning sometimes travels to my groin, which kinda means my sacral chakra might need some attention. But I digress. This belief that I have is that the big U is always on my side. The big Universe. All loving and all knowing mother Universe. And I knew we are to explore outdoor living. For healing. For relearning how to love each other. And I got 3 days in a row later on in the week. Hot damn. Here we go again!
We got a Hyatt for the night and fell asleep, dreaming of oceanfront living. The next morning, we drove to Dockweiler RV Park and I set about checking in. After getting the parking pass, I was matter-of-factly informed that the bathrooms were closed. This meant showers, toilets and laundry. Due to COVID. And was I ok with that? Because typically they'd only allow fully contained trailers and RVs. And what did that mean? That meant vehicles with self contained toilets/showers. But I had booked online and the meager sparse state park website failed to mention that. So was I ok with that?
I was ok with it. With the quick thinking of a fox, I planned out our pooping schedule for the next 3 days. And how it had to coincide with dinner times in clean restaurants that have open bathrooms. It was LA. It didn't seem like SUCH a tall order. The trade-off was that we get to live on the beach. And isn't life a series of trade-offs? Taking a deep breath, I got back into the car and explained the sitch to the rest of my brood.
"Whaaaaat?! No, absolutely not. We've got to leave." the BFC said.
Then seeing my face, said, "Come on, you can't be serious. We've got 3 kids with us. ...How?"
I quickly explained my poop schedule. For peeing, I had ordered a dozen Travel Johns from Bed Bath and Beyond.
So did we do it? Did the kids soil themselves?
To be continued....