Home > Business Crap, Personal Stories, Topic Discussion > Public Pooping – A Re-Response

Public Pooping – A Re-Response

You know how you can have a steel resolve well before a big moment or event but as the event nears you start to fall apart, things loosen up, and if you are not truly prepared or trained it ends on a sour note.  Such is my story.

It was late at night and I had just checked in at the hotel lobby.  I had been squeezing cheek for at least an hour as we circled JFK waiting for clearance to land on this stormy, rainy night.  I should have stopped at the airport bathroom but it was late and I had an early meeting and I wasn’t going to wait in the cab line.  At the time I was in my late 20s and a very experienced traveler.  Nonetheless, the herky-jerk 30 minute cab ride to the East Side Marriott did not help the cause.

At this point I am nearing fatigue stage.  You know the point where your body is begging you to walk after a long run or put the weights down after a long burn.  Well my anus was twitching with fatigue, begging to release its heavy burden.  I arrived at my hotel door feeling confident, slight relief drew into my face as I knew I had safely made it when I got the red light.  The dreaded red light and triple-beep associated with a bad card swipe to get into your hotel room is in most cases a mild annoyance.  You try again 2 or 3 times and usually everything works out.  Well tonight was not like most cases.  Relief and safety was on the other side of a 2 inch door – might as well have been a mile away.

The incompetent late-night staff had screwed up the coding of my key when I checked-in: something that occasionally happens.  I dropped my roller bag and laptop case, waddle-sprinting to the elevator then lobby for a new key.  At this point I am experiencing a raging fire of anger from my sphincter muscles.  All of the movement and peristaltic contractions are literally churning my normal solid poo log into liquid molten diarrhea.  Somehow I manage to keep it together.

At this point my walking has slowed to a crawl as even a slight unclenching will unleash the fury upon me.  The wait in the elevator is excruciating.  Finally my floor is reached and I am close.  I feel the resolve melting out of me as the big moment arrives.  No matter what I try, my body is finally giving into the throbbing poo bomb.  Like a Molotov cocktail, this shat-bomb explodes upon me as I reach the door to my room.  Immediately I feel a warm coating envelope my lower half.  I am exhilarated (the release feels good, even pleasurable) and horrified all at the same time.

I quickly get into my room – leaving my bags in the hallway and jump into the shower immediately, clothes and all.  My shoes are salvaged as the top of my socks absorb any trickle.  I strip down and scrub down with every last inch of the mini-soap.  I leave the now sopping wet poo clothes in the shower as I try and determine the best course of action for clean-up.  Do I leave it for hotel staff and risk being black-listed or hide the evidence?  Clearly this was not my fault right?  I mean, I was prepared and would have made it had it not been for the incompetent hotel personnel.  This was not my burden to bear for the night.

I slip outside in my towel, grab my bags from the hallway, and get changed.  I utilize the 2 trashcan bags and 2 dry-cleaning bags to pack away my sodden, sopping clothing, take the elevator down 2 floors and quickly drop my load into a wastebasket near the ice machine.

Moral of this story: good things do NOT come to those who wait.

  1. July 21, 2011 at 6:53 pm

    So what did you wear to your meetings? I am proud of you for doubling up on appropriate work wear. I would have been SOL.

  2. ThePapaSquat
    July 21, 2011 at 8:25 pm

    I was just wearing the clothes for that day – had clothes for the other days of work.

  1. No trackbacks yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: