The Day Your Crap Owns You

Over the weekend, I've had the pleasure of moving, again. I thank my stars that I've been in the Army and always maintain in the back of my head to get ready to move, or as termed by the military as "jump TOC" (which refers to moving the tactical operations center at a moments notice due to mission requirements or enemy considerations. The tactical operations center is the hub of all unit activity for a military unit during tactical operations)

Ninety percent of my stuff is big, which means it takes up a lot of space, but doesn't take long to move....except for the unholy green couch. I bought this couch when I was assigned to Fort LeonardWood, Missouri. The couch is alittle over 8 feet long, and fortunately does not have a hide-a-bed. When I moved into the apartment I live in now, it took me and a friend almost 2 hours of going up one stairwell, then back down and up another to get it into the apartment. No problem moving out however, I remember what we did to get it out. Unfortunately, my new place has even narrower stairwells. Had the couch been so much as 2 inches longer, I'm positive it would still be jammed in one of the corridors. Thankfully I had help, and more importantly, a truck. You can't move alot of furniture in a freakin' Prius.

So after a long day of moving, the hot tub at my soon to be old apartment building was in order. I'd never used it before, so I figure I'd abuse it this time around. When I found it, and was getting ready to turn on the jets, I noticed a giant shiny button to the left of the jet control. It has a powerpoint written label above this enormous red button (that looked like a missile launch button) that said "Emergency Spa Shut-Off".

Can anyone please tell me what emergency in a hot tub would require someone to leap from the hot tub and turn off the things that make alot of bubbles?

Yeah...neither can I.