There's a big line for the porta-potty -- a fishing line

Hurricane Charley sent 6,000 portable potties flying everywhere.
ORLANDO SENTINEL
CAPE CORAL, Fla. -- Trolling into a matted tangle of mangroves along a brackish canal, Capt. Ron Davis throws a hook and snares yet another huge catch that his agile assistant, Julio Chou, winches aboard the "Porta-Potty Express."
The haul in Cape Coral's 400-mile canal system is unlike anything Davis has experienced in his 45 years as a fisherman, shrimper and crabber: Eighteen big ones in one day. Thirty in two days. More than 150 in recent weeks. Every one measuring at least 7 feet in length and tipping the scales at 200 pounds or more.
Floating throughout
Thanks to Hurricane Charley's pummeling of Southwest Florida in August, plastic privies are floating throughout the vast maze of waterways that has made this booming coastal town a haven for affluent snowbirds.
Davis and Chou are being paid by the hour to fish for the single-seat flotsam by Suncoast Portable Toilet Co. The business had nearly 6,000 units distributed at construction sites before the first of four hurricanes struck the state.
For weeks, the two men have cruised the canals behind luxury homes in their pontoon boat fitted with a winch, searching for Suncoast water closets dumped in the drink.
"My friends ask me what kind of bait you use to catch portable toilets. I tell them 'greenbacks,'" said Davis, 66.
Extent of damages
Tiffany Lovelace, vice president of Suncoast, said that at least 500 of the company's $440 portables were lost or damaged beyond repair during the hurricanes of 2004.
Suncoast workers scrambled to clean and pick up as many units as they could before Hurricane Charley's arrival, "but it was impossible to bring them all in that fast," Lovelace said.
City officials said no unusual bacteria levels have been detected in canals that have been repeatedly flushed with heavy rain since Charley roared through. But some residents have complained that windblown portables battered their properties.
'Act of God'
One woman told a local television station that a Suncoast potty blew into her home's pool enclosure during the hurricane, causing $7,000 worth of damage. Suncoast said it is not responsible for portables propelled by an "act of God."
"They [the toilets] weren't the only things flying through the air," Lovelace said. Along with the leased latrines, the storm tossed trees, roof tiles, pool screens and lawn furniture into the canal system.
Residents who live on the network of canals cherish their boat access to restaurants, bars, shops, coastal islands, fishing troves and the Gulf of Mexico. But many canals were not navigable in the days and weeks after the hurricanes hit, irking homeowners who were itching to get back on the water.
Rapid growth
With its population of 130,000 expected to triple in coming decades, Cape Coral is rapidly growing around the canal system gouged out of wetlands and cattle ranges by developers in the 1950s and 1960s.
The waterways were dug to provide more than 50 million cubic yards of fill dirt so home sites would meet elevation requirements. But the canals brought the coastal lifestyle inland and quickly became selling points for real estate salespeople peddling dreams of sun and surf.
"The developers' slogan was 'Waterfront Wonderland,' and they capitalized on them all they could," said Cape Coral City Council member Gloria Tate, whose father was an early developer.
Today, vacant home sites on saltwater canals with prime gulf access can sell for $250,000 and more, and they're appreciating rapidly.
"We paid $266,000 for a lot just up the canal six months ago, and we just got a contract in the mail offering us $390,000 for it -- it's crazy," said Richard Scott, who moved from Seattle three years ago.
Scott stood next to his boat on the canal behind his home and applauded recently as Davis and Chou fished another portable toilet out of a canal.
"I'm thrilled to death that they got it," Scott said. "It has been an eyesore out there."
After Davis and his helper pulled their quarry onto their boat, Chou, 39, crawled into the outhouse and emerged with two small fish.
"I always try to save the fish before they die," Chou said. "There was a little gator in one of them one day, but luckily he swam out before I got in."