Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Bike Wheels On A Gravel Path

www.envirolet.com/visapotty268.html

Okay, please have a look at this link. It is a dream come true for me.
I have a fear of public restrooms, acquaintances restrooms and sometimes even my own dear toilet makes me sweat.
I have left all kinds of parties, bars and functions to go back to the toilet I am most comfortable with and achieve release.
Once in college I felt the onset of a pretty serious shit at like 10am.
Normally I would have just jumped on the bus then headed for the hills, but I had an afternoon exam, I couldn't leave. I know the option to use my educational facilities facility was viable, but, there really was no question. I would have to hold it.
This one turned out to be something I'd have to hold, negotiate with and beg.
By the time I got home (after walking with no bend in my knees from bus stop to front door) I was shaking, sweating and, well, crying just a little bit.
I whipped the front door open and took what could only have been 3 seconds but felt like an hour to contemplate if the upstairs or downstairs Lou was closer. I went up.
My hands were shaking so much that my zipper became a logic puzzle, I was just thankful that I was going to shit myself at home where I could keep it a very dark secret.
I made it though, I got the pants and gitch down, bent to reclaim my rightful (and needed) spot on the throne, and had begun, endured and finished my shit by the time my ass cheeks met the cool plastic of the toilet seat.
It was like a "THWOOP".
Rolaids spells relief? My Ass!
Nothing spells relief like the relief a person with a social phobia of shitting in public gets when they make it to their 'comfort throne'.
Sometimes the gross inevitability of a persistent turd forces me to ignore my beliefs of a public can.
I'd rather take the plunge than explain why my pants got heavy while driving in a Chevy.
I combat this with excessive flushing, loud coughing and trying to pinch it off until all the footsteps from the stalls pat their way out the door.
A few weeks ago I was camping up North (Tobermory, Ontario).
The 'outhouses' were actually kind of clean. Not too busy either, I only had about three shit attempts that ended with me zipping back up and putting it off.
THEN....
10:00 am. The morning sun was starting to get hot, all the keeners who wake up at 6 am to walk dogs and brew coffee had already taken their dumps, and all the partiers who would be dropping some pretty serious beer shits were still trying to sleep off a hangover.
I saw my chance, and I took it.
I announced to my camping buddies that I was going to take a shit, and I headed up the path.
My stomach was knotting a bit, both with the urge to purge, and the onsetting fear of what I was about to do, the indecency of it all.
I tried to casually glance into the campsites I was passing to see if there was anyone looking like they had to go, or outrightly announcing their intentions as I just had.
It seemed clear.
I saw the facilities in the distance.
The sun shone gently on the wooden and plastic exterior, not disturbed by the entrance or exit of any civilians.
I made it all the way there, no one to be seen.
I got inside, glanced at the toilet, assessed it to be as clean as I could logically expect, and I sat down.
I felt good.
Confident even.
With the relaxation of the appropriate muscles, my 'private time' had begun.
Then gravel started churning and crunching under the wheels of a bike.
Sounded like the bike was coming fast, and a skid to stop by the toilet.
Great, a fucking dream come true this was, shitting in relative public, and a child in the area.
I glanced at the lock on the door (which was one of those J hooks that sits in the O and keeps my door firmly shut for privacy) all locks in place, now it was a waiting game.
I heard this child walk across about 3.12 feet of gravel and come to a stop in front of the only two doors that had toilets behind them.
It was 50/50.
If he tried the door on the right, he'd find an empty toilet to call his own, if he tried the door on the left it would pull until the lock was taut, and then make his way to the right.
Child tried door on the left first.
Door on the left pulled until the lock engaged.....
then said lock disengaged, and door opened wide.
My vanilla white upper thighs and knobby knees highlighted in the sun, but even more shocking was the wide eyed horror of child who was looking at me crapping.
He stood there, maybe 3 seconds (again, felt like a fucking hour) and then just let go of the door, didn't push it shut, but let it fall from his fingers.
My useless fucking bathroom door fell slowly toward me.
I grabbed the J lock, hard too, like I was trying to pinch it the way an abusive parent would grab their kid in a time of disobedience.
The lock didn't care.
It hated its job.
I could understand too.
Then I heard the same 3.12 feet of gravel being crossed and Child getting back on bike and peddling away.
Logically, I knew he was red faced and running away from what he had seen.
But, in my head, he was hauling ass back to his campsite to tell everyone his new story of seeing some guy with a Mohawk taking a crap.
I could hear them laughing.
I could feel the laughter spreading from site to site.
The story spreading like gossip at a southern united states beauty salon.
There wasn't much I could do.
I saw another opportunity, and I took it.
I bared down.
Wiped like I was on 'fast forward' and got the fuck out of there.
I didn't want to be the 'Butt' of this kids joke.
By the time I got back to the campsite, I was sweating even harder.
It was a shit to remember, and to reinforce the reasons that any sort of public release has the potential to end in humiliation.
Again, see link above.
If I were an inventor I would have made that!
I'm not, instead I just send big kisses and social anxiety abolishing hugs to the inventor.
Toot Toot!
literally!

Your truly,
Crappy McScaredypants

2 Comments:

Blogger LMD said...

thanks for sharing ian... this was a good way for me to start my morning at work, laughing at a great shit story.

6:38 AM  
Blogger Another Apartment in Blogville. said...

hahha Visa Potty 268...i wouldn't mind getting one of those for when we all go to the bar. i wouldn't even have to leave the table then.

6:31 AM  

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