Where I Pooped Today

Angrily Compacted Poop

I haven't pooped yet, but I suspect that it won't be pleasant. Today had been a good day until our airport industry started to weave its way through my colon. Admittedly, it's half my fault. But it's also partly the fault of Avis Rentals, Osama Bin Laden, President Bush and some jackass who tampered with an airplane fire extinguisher.

Arriving at the airport in my rented Nissan Sentra, (A side note about the Nissan Sentra. I'm a big American dude. Not so much fat, but tall. I have size 13 shoes. How is it with all the retarded regulatory minutia impeading our country at every turn, size 13 shoes don't fit in the Nissan Sentra. The transportation safety administration freaks out because my giant size 13's could pack enough plastic explosives to...wait....oh, I feel better. The deep, forboding voice that rules the Columbia, SC public address system has just announced that those looking to fly to LaGuardia have to face the fact that their flight has been cancelled. How do you cancell a flight? What now? "Ok, Mr. Buckworth, your flight to LaGuardia has been rerouted. All you have to do is take the 6:56 flight to Van Worth Ohio where you'll connect with the 9:12 flight to Seattle. From there we have a red-eye flight landing you in New York next Thursday. Have a nice trip. And thank you for choosing Delta. Oh, and don't bother complaining. We're about four weeks from declaring bankruptcy and the federal government will most assuredly bail us out. We are, after all, one of the largest airlines in the world. Toodles! And if you need a pillow on your flight, a flight attendat will be happy to reach into your body cavity and pull out your own liver for you. We don't carry pillows any more and a portly, red faced fellow like yourself has certainly had enough alcohol to bring about a certain swelling to the organ. It's quite comfortable, I hear. I wouldn't know, myself...I'm mormon." I always get that ticketing agent, can't stand her.

Anyway, back to the poop. The Nissan Sentra was only a preliminary point of irritation. It set the stage for what followed.

As I was turning in the keys to my Japanese foot torture device, I realized that I had left my own car keys in my temporary apartment in rural South Carolina. A frantic search through my bags revealed that I indeed was born with some sort of mental handicap that had only just now become apparent. Now I was becoming the red-faced airport guy. The sphincter clenches.

Security used to be a breeze, and if it hadn't been for the Muslim faith, still would be. I blame Osama for the fact that security is what it is, but I blame President Bush for federalizing security and forming the TSA. There couldn't be a more frustrating job, as shown by the impatient TSA agent in his early 40's screaming at me to get my shoes "out of the damn tray and lay them flat on the belt. Flat on the belt, damnit!" I had taken off my belt and thought he wanted me to lay my shoes on my belt. Confused, I looked at him for further instructions. Apperently he meant the conveyer belt feeding the X-ray machine. Sphincter pushing upward, jaw tightens, nostrils experience an increase in airflow.

The flight from Atlanta was delayed because, as the keeper of the PA announced, "a passenger deliberately damaged a fire extinguisher and the plane will take off when the captain is satisfied with the aircraft." I can't imagine that getting another fire extinguisher would be that hard, but I didn't allow my brain down that path...It has had a hard day and really deserves to spend some time fantasizing about the semi-attractive woman working the bar in the terminal, here.

So, I'm in an airport drinking coffee, needing to poop but refusing to. I'm afraid that if I actually enter the bathroom, the fragile state of affairs that promises that I'll be on a plane by 7pm will be shattered. I have to poop so bad that I could thwart gay rape right now. But today is a bad day to poop.

posted by Blue Towel @ 3:15 PM