Sitka or Bust: Commute The World

I warn you now, if you’re squeamish this isn’t an article to read. Though if you aren’t you might get a good laugh and maybe even find something in common with me.

I’ve got a somewhat sensitive digestive system, though I can proudly say I’ve only killed one plumbing system so far. Generally speaking, stress does the trick, or eating something I haven’t cooked myself, sometimes I swear it happens if I was just looking forward too much to the food. Anyways, it tends to pop up at very inopportune moments and I figured why not own my embarrassments and share them with the world.

Well, I’ve been going to get massages, if you recall. I was feeling pretty gross, but the feeling ebbed all day, every time making me think it had passed for good. I was feeling some gurgles right before I had my appointment but it was too late to cancel so I figured I’d have to suck it up and go anyways. Luckily the moment I pulled into the drive, I felt nearly over it. I went to my chiropractor and he snapped my neck quickly before sending me on my way to the masseuse.

The appointment started out relatively smoothly with my shoulder and neck work, but just as she started to descend I could feel some very strong gurgles taking up residence in my stomach. They were killers and I knew it. She’s massaging my ass cheek and I’m holding my breath, paranoid that I’m going to not only shit myself, but have it happen while this lady is so nicely touching my ass.

A smarter woman probably would’ve bowed out then and there. I mean half a massage is better than a lifetime of nightmares of shitting on someone. Instead I spent what felt like an eternity clenching my cheeks in such a way that the lady touching my ass would not also feel my muscles tensing. I’m sure she felt it, but was kind enough not to let on. I mean c’mon, if you spend enough time touching butts, someone must’ve farted on her before, but I also hoped that I wouldn’t be that someone.

She moved on to my legs and I felt that cold breeze sweep over me. I held it together, though. I finished the massage successfully. Then I inexplicably went to Walmart to pick up one item. It was supposed to be quick. In and out. I shit myself the moment I walked in past the greeter. But alas, I was on a mission and I still finished my shopping like a champ.

Not even a week later I had to make an unexpected trip out of town. Maybe it was the stress of it or maybe it was because I tried to eat everything in my fridge that could potentially spoil. All in a few hours time. But, I got on the road around midnight and by 3am I was feeling the distinctive jitters that accompany a digestive blitzkrieg. I missed my first exit in a futile attempt to find an open bathroom. I ended up on the next exit following signs to a gas station, but once I got close enough I felt that there was something not quite right about the station’s dim glow in the night. It should’ve been a beacon, but instead the pumps were dark and only the convenience store portion looked open. I was also the only car there.

My warning sign for self-preservation was overruled by the desire to not shit in my own car. I got out and walked to the store, trying each door I found, but they were all locked. I also saw no cashier. In that moment, I became savage with anger. My mind flashed obscenities at the gas station and the cashier, and even my damn GPS. I returned to my car with passionate rage added to the fire in my bowels, opened my glove box for a stash of napkins and trotted over behind the dumpster.

I ripped down my jeans, crouched behind a guard rail and quickly laid waste to the night.  It was the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done. I thought of whoever empties the dumpster finding evidence I’d been there and I mentally shook my fist at him. I proudly stared into the security camera as I returned to my car, turned the engine over and drove away without a second thought.