The Unwelcome Poop
I have not pooped today, but will regale you all with the tale of a late night in Athens, GA. It was 80’s Night at the local bar formerly known as A.M.F. The year was 1999, and we were certainly partying like the song suggests. But as my stomach began to quiver, I realized this was not what Prince had in mind. Although his assless pants would make for easy access in a situation like this. Having previously finished off a plate of hot wings, I should have known this would happen. Especially after the gyrations I was subjecting my stomach to on the dance floor.
I tried holding it. That was a legitimate solution for a time, but it was soon evident that my stomach muscles were giving in. I loosened my belt, hoping that a relief of pressure would subdue my rumblings. It was no use. My worst fears were realized as I admitted to myself that I would have to go in a crowded bar bathroom. As I sauntered swiftly to the facilities, butt cheeks tightly clenched, I resembled an Olympic Power Walker racing for the gold. Or in my case, the brown. Luckily for me, there was one stall with a reasonably clean toilet. I could have easily been in a bar with no toilet at all, or even worse, a “toilet tease,” which is a perfectly functioning toilet that has been subjected to a night’s worth of urine, splatter and cigarette ash, rendering it useless.
As I sat there, hoping the sounds of Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Right Round” drown out my noises, I had to hold the stall door closed with my foot as drunken frat boys searched for a place to vomit up the night’s spirits.
I finished and confidently strolled back to find my friends as Belinda Carslisle’s “Heaven is a Place on Earth” pumped over the speakers. No Belinda, after my night, heaven is my bathroom at home.
posted by Blue Towel @ 1:59 PM
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