Toilet Talk with Adam B

 

I wanted to write something about an issue I have dealt with, grown with and finally, in my opinion concurred.  This is a particularly uplifting and inspiring piece if I say so myself and I thought I would share it with my growing reading audience. 

I am sure many of you deal with the problems of “to or not to” us a public restroom to poo and pee.  I for such a long time always chose the “not to” option.  All throughout my childhood I would only like to poop in restrooms familiar and safe to me such as home.  There were a few other places I could do the deed such as my grandfather’s work and a close friends house.  Most of the time, however, getting to the proper place to empty my bowels was a tense and stressful challenge. 

Most of the time when people behave in such a manor, there tends to be a past embarrassing experience that had somehow scarred the individual to only seek solitude in the very familiar and acceptable locations; I am no exception.

I was a mere youth, somewhere in 2^nd or 3^rd grade; I had an episode that will forever haunt my mind and memories.  I was not feeling particularly good one morning before I went to school but not bad enough to stay home.  I don’t even think I mentioned to my mother that I had a tummy ache and proceeded to board the bus for what would become one of the most traumatic experiences  of my life.

I lived in the country outside of Ottawa Illinois and the bus ride to and from school was a pretty long ride because we were driving miles and miles across the farmland to gather all the hillbilly kids I went to school with.  (You see, I am from Ottawa, which most people thing is still hickville, but to these country bumpkins in the Grand Ridge area, I was a city slicker.)  After about fifteen minutes on the bus, I started feeling a little gurgle in my stomach and some cramping occurred in the midsection.  Another couple minutes past and I knew what was about to happen. 

I didn’t mention to anyone around me that I was feeling sick so I quietly stumbled up to the bus driver.  I told Roy, the nine hundred year old-shouldn’t be driving children to and from school bus driver; that I needed to go potty and he told me to and I quote “Hold it.”  Well, I would have loved to “hold it” but the fact of the situation was that the levy was about the break and I was struggling to “hold it” any longer.  I proceeded to beg him to take me home but he refused.  I said I was going to go poopy in my pants, but he did not care. 

Feeling horrified and defeated, I returned to my seat and crouched down on the floor with my head on the seat.  My friend William who was completely oblivious to the fact that I was in hell continued to talk to me, ask me questions about ridiculously annoying and unimportant things which I ignored the entire time.   Suddenly, I felt my butthole pucker and soon open.  I felt a hot substance pour out of my ass and all down my legs.  I kept it hidden the best I could by sitting with my book bag covering my lower extremities.  I kept shitting and shitting and I couldn’t stop!  I was tearing up but at the same time I was trying to cover up the evidence that something was wrong to all the other kids on the bus. 

All the hiding and covering up I was portraying went right out the window when the smell hit the air. You see, children are cruel; they don’t understand the concept of embarrassment or accidents when you are sick.  I was mortified when I heard one kid scream out…”ewwww, what’s that smell?”  My best buddy at the time William had no problem pointing out to everyone that it was me.  Pretty soon I had everyone on the bus laughing, pointing at me and holding their nose.  I started to cry and prayed that we would be at the school soon so I could call my mom to come and get me. 

After what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at school and I sat on the floor watching my fellow classmates depart the bus.  I sat there crying to myself until everyone was out of the bus.  Roy, doing his final inspection of the bus found me sitting in shit crying before he helped me out of the bus.  I wish I could go back in time and rub his face in the diarrhea that was all over my pants, seat and floor of the bus.  I wanted to scream at him and tell him how it was all his fault that my childhood was ruined and I would be a social outcast for the rest of my life; I however just walked into Grand Ridge Elementary with shit in my britches and a forever scarred ego. 

From that day on, me and my bodily functions were at odds with each other.   From this day my priority was to have a plan whenever I went anywhere as to what I would do if I had a situation that I need to get to a bathroom.  I made myself sick with stress and nerves just thinking I would be somewhere that I had to be embarrassed like this again.  I stayed home from school so much my family started taking me to doctors trying to figure out what was wrong.  Looking back, it is obvious that it was me making myself sick just by worrying, but back then I didn’t know my problem was mental. 

In my high school I had an incident where I felt I was going to have diarrhea so I excused myself from class and explored the restrooms.  I figured since it was during class, I could use the bathroom there because I would be alone.  I made my way into the bathroom and was shocked to find all the stalls had no doors.  I mean seriously, can I get some fucking privacy when I take a shit?  It is absolutely ridiculous to expect people to take a dump while other people can stroll by and nose into your business.  Get some God damned Doors Ottawa High School!  Seriously!

I thought long and hard and since the tension was building in me, I had two choices’ the stall with no door or in my pants.  The stall was the clear cut winner…obviously.  Anyway as I do the deed and dump massive amounts of liquidly fecal matter in the toilet I was lucky enough to get a group of kids who cut class to stop in the restroom.  Yay! Lucky Me!  These assholes quickly noticed me pissing out my ass and without hesitation started making fun of me.  There was nothing I could do at that moment.  I was stuck and embarrassed once again.  They left before I was done and it is a good thing they did because I assure you they would have gotten brown swirlies in that disgusting toilet if they stuck around.  I want to confirm to you they eventually got their ass handed to them by me.  I don’t forget assholes like that. 

Since this was the second time I got caught with my pants down…literally, I swore off public restrooms forever.  I had instances where I had to go to great lengths to get home to use the bathroom that it was obnoxious.  This next experience has to do with the extremes I went to in order to get to my favorite lil poop hole at home.

I was attending community college at a quaint little place called Illinois Valley Community College and in the midst of class I felt the familiar ol rumbly in my tumbly.  Being that it wasn’t high school and I was a “big boy” I was able to just high tail it out of class and jump in my car.  Now, I.V.C.C was a good 30 minutes away from home but I was determined to get there without a single drip of ass juice making its way out of my arse.  I jumped into my 1966 Oldsmobile Dynamic 88 Convertible (yeah, sweet I know) and proceeded to peel out of the parking lot.  On my way home on route 6 I was doing a good 90mph in a strange position where my ass was lifted off the seat while my legs were strait as I clinch the steering wheel.  As I fly down the road I notice some road construction ahead where the two lanes turn into one.  There was a flagger ahead with a sign reading STOP.  Now, I am all for following the rules of the road and obeying construction zone limits, but that day…it just wasn’t going to happen.

Once I was about 300 feet from the flagger, I think he realized there would be no stop.  At about 200 feet I believe he realized there would be no slow.  At about 100 feet, I think he thought to himself…”get the fuck out of this dude’s way” because I zoomed though that construction zone at the speed of light and forced another car onto the shoulder due to my emergency.   I was NOT going to shit myself and I was not going to soil this car.  I am a man on a mission and no one was going to stop me.

I made it home with only seconds to spare, ran inside doing some weird cheek clench run maneuver and landed safely on my throne.  I had made it.  As I sit on the toilet thinking about what I had just done I came to the realization that I could have killed people in a crash and I could have been arrested…all sorts of shit.  Oh well…like I said…I was not shitting my pants! Ha!

Also in college, this time at a real one called Columbia in downtown Chicago, I found a quiet, private bathroom in a hotel a few blocks away.  If I ever needed to use a bathroom, I would have to leave class, take the elevator down to the lobby which was 13-14 stories down, clinch my cheeks as I walk a few blocks to the hotel and make it to the hidden and secret handicap bathroom location.  That bathroom saved my ass on more than one occasion; pun intended!

As you see, I had some issues with going poop.  I could never image going anywhere but home until another incident happened outside the country.  You see, I had gotten familiar with my body as far as when I needed to go poop and would schedule things around those times.  I knew that if I ate breakfast, I would have to go poop within an hour.  Knowing my routine, I knew that on vacations, I simply would not eat breakfast and all would be good until after lunch.  Breakfast poo’s were always diarrhea which lunch and supper poops were usually more on the solid side. 

Let me stop for a second and let everyone know that, yes I realize you are probably getting to know a little too much about me.  The cool thing about this is…I no longer get embarrassed so it’s all good now.

Anyway, I was on a cruise in the Caribbean and my aunt, uncle and cousins decided we would all go snorkeling to see sea turtles.  I was not particularly fond of the idea since I had to wake up at 5:30AM in order to catch the boat to shore.  I woke up and my aunt demanded I eat something for breakfast because we wouldn’t be getting anything until after noon.  I fought her for a long while before I eventually caved.  She was a hard ass and wouldn’t listen to a thing I said.  I ate light hoping I wouldn’t have another episode….but I did.

We got ourselves on the boat with about 30 other strangers and head out into the deep blue sea.  We were seriously miles from shore and I started to get that feeling again.  Since we were on a fairly big boat, I thought there was a chance there would be a bathroom, I was wrong.  I told my aunt I was feeling sick and need to go to the bathroom so she told me to ask the captain what to do. 

I cautiously walked to the captain and told him what my situation was and he without missing a beat told me to just swim off, pull my pants down and shit in the water.  He said the fish will eat it.  Well my friends…that is just not good enough for me.  I am not going to swim out in front of everyone and release a cloud of poo into the water.  He said there was zero chance we were turning around and pretty much told me to deal with it.  Out of options, I just didn’t know what to do.  We stopped the boat at the snorkeling location; I strapped on my snorkel and jumped into the water.  I swam away from the group and just decided to float and try and hold the poo in.  I was even somewhat hoping a shark would come along and eat me to put me out of my misery but I actually found a better solution.   I was able to get into some sort of meditational trance or something because I floated out there in the water for hours not moving a muscle and focusing on the sound of my breathing without a problem.  I felt as if I were not even in my body, not awake and not in danger of shitting myself once again; I had beat it that day.  My aunt apologized to me and told me she wouldn’t force me to eat breakfast anymore…thank God!  Why can’t people just listen when someone says if they eat breakfast they will get the shits?  Honestly.

This story doesn’t end here though; there was a point where I turned things around.  There is a happy ending in the saga named “Adam and his Poo.”  The breaking point in my ridiculousness was one day when I went golfing with my grandfather.  We got up early and hit the links one beautiful summer Sunday morning when tragedy struck my ass again.  My Grampa and I were paired with two other guys we didn’t know and once we got far away from the clubhouse, I had to poop again. 

I told Grampa I had to go and he told me to take the golf cart and go back to the clubhouse as he would walk with the other two guys.  That was a good enough idea but…I couldn’t make it that far; I had little time on my hands.  I quickly looked around and saw an apartment complex right next to the upcoming hole.  (Note: this is not the nicest of golf courses, most have beautiful homes lining the fairways…this one has section 8 apartments.)

I saw a woman and her kids playing on their back patio and quickly ran up to her.  I remember as if it was yesterday, here is what I said:  “Excuse me but…I am in a crisis situation that I need to get to a toilet immediately.  Could I please use your bathroom?”  The woman was taken back for a second but reluctantly allowed me into her home to use the bathroom. 

I flew into the bathroom, pull my pants down and fired off my dump into the toilet.  It was like a cannon going off in my ass…unbelievable.  Finally, I was finished; I let out a big sigh, wiped and flushed the toilet.  Here is where I had a panic attack.  As I button up my pants and fasten my belt I notice the water level rising in the toilet.  My eyes widened and I Immediately felt sweat form on my forehead.  I started to panic.  I quickly looked around for a plunger but there was nothing around.  Just as I thought the shit water was going to overflow onto the floor a miracle happened and it abruptly stopped and flushed down.  I have no idea what I was going to say if I had flooded their bathroom with smelly ass diarrhea water. 

So I walked out of the bathroom, went back outside to where the family was and told them…”Uh…I wouldn’t go in there for a while if I were you…maybe a week.”   I smiled and thanked them profusely and went on my merry way of playing golf.  As I walked back to my Grampa, the other two guys were laughing to themselves amazed I had done what I did.

My Grampa said he wouldn’t have had the balls to do that which kind of made me realize how silly my behavior was in the past.  I survived this ordeal with a smile and some humility.  I am probably never going to see that family again and even if I did…who cares what they think. 

I started to realize that no one really cares what you are doing, how loud your farts are and how smelly your crap is.  I have become open to public restrooms and no longer have to worry about being stuck in a situation I cannot get out of.  No longer do I worry about making it home to shit…I simply shit wherever the hell I can.  It is quite liberating!  Hell, I even laugh at myself if I am in a public restroom and I drop a loud bomb where there are people in there.  I just laugh it off and make some sort of funny comment such as “Fire in the Hole” and everyone chuckles.

So, with this whole drama complete I ask you…are you liberated?  Are you uplifted and Inspired by my story of perseverance and how I overcame my insecurities?  Let’s all go out and shit in a public restroom today!  Mark it on your calendar, April 30 is officially Public Restroom Shit Day.