On a spring night, in 2005, some friends and I found ourselves near the last leg of a two week road trip across the western United States. At about 3 a.m. we found ourselves needing gas somewhere along I-5 nearing the border of California and Oregon. 


We pulled off the freeway into what might has well have been a scene from a horror film. There was a single, dimly lit, light illuminating the gas pumps attached to a log-cabin type structure. There were rows of semi trucks parked in the darkness next to the gas pumps. We all slowly piled out of the 35 foot R.V. that we had spent the last two weeks in, and made our way to get snacks and use the bathroom. 

The interior was almost as poorly lit as the outside. Everything had a yellow-grey tint to it. It was almost laughable to call this tiny room a storefront for the gas attendant and his food and drink items for sale. Nevertheless, I asked where the restrooms were. The attendant grunted something about them being down the hall on the right. 

I hesitantly walked down the dark hall and entered a room that may has well have been decorated by Ted Nugent. There were gun moldings and bumper stickers about gun rights all along the beams on the ceiling. There were also blown up newspaper clippings about Hitler being found dead and the Hindenburg disaster. I'm not sure how that all related to gun control, but someone found it important enough to place on the wall.

I could tell that this room was part of a larger space and quickly saw what looked like restaurant seating in the darkness beyond the room I was in. I was a little uneasy by this point but had to use the bathroom, so I made my move towards the sign indicating I had reached my destination. I was shocked to find the door stop as it hit something. As I peered in slowly to see what stopped the door I saw a bathtub, followed by what looked like a woman's legs. There wasn't a curious bone in my body by this point. I turned and ran out of there. I slowed as I came to the store front and noticed the small grin in the corner of the attendants mouth as I left the building. I told my friends about it who let their curiosity inspire them to discover what had convinced me to refrain from using this particular bathroom. Each of them shuddered as they came out of the building. 

It was, in fact, a mannequin. A woman dressed in a red polka-dotted dress turned to witness the relieving of peoples bladders. Now, I'm sure truckers find this hilarious as much as the attendants find it hilarious to watch people run out of there. And I have to admit, it is pretty funny. 

The best part of the whole thing is that we found out, upon sharing the story with people, that some other friends had been there and found out that if you touch the mannequin or lean over it, an alarm goes off and she starts screaming. I would say that I want to meet the people that own this little truck stop and shake their hands for coming up with such a genius trick to play on unsuspecting travelers, but I don't. That said, it does make for a great story.