Warning: Do not read while eating.My stomach woke me up 15 minutes before the alarm. The pain and discomfort was, of course, easily recognized - explosive diarrhea. Good morning. We've all experienced it at one time or another, and most would agree that it's a situation best handled miles from human contact. For some reason (let's go with vanity), we always ignore the unwavering fact that everybody poops when caught in the explosive diarrhea predicament. OK, so explosive diarrhea isn't your everyday poop. It's a bit more aggressive, I suppose. A bit more unforgiving.
Unfortunately, on this specific day, when my bowels woke me before Lil Wayne's "How to Love" did, I was sharing a small hotel room with my then-boyfriend, Riley, on day two of our cross-country drive. We were scheduled to wake early, checkout, and get back on the road. Something definitely needed to checkout of me, that I knew.
Hoping Riley would remain asleep, I turned off the alarm before it sounded and tiptoed to the bathroom. What happened next was infinitely more disagreeable than the Catholic Church's stance on birth control. Running the sink's faucet failed to muffle the vigorous rumblings in the least. It seemed it would take the raging Niagara Falls to depress what was happening. I haphazardly crammed a towel under the door to offer Riley some reprieve, hoping he hadn't already woken up to the commotion...or the smell.
My fears were realized when he softly knocked on the door, explaining he was heading downstairs to get some breakfast. I could hear him loud and clear - which only meant one thing. Ignoring the issue at hand (or ass, in this case), he was sweet enough to ask if he should bring up any of the continental breakfast for me, but we both knew I should consider never eating again. I told him not to worry about it and he left with most of my anxiety following suit. I was finally alone to poop in peace.
Soon, I felt almost 100% better. I even hoped he would bring me back something to eat. We had been feasting on nothing but fast food for most of the trip, and I hated the idea of passing up a free hot breakfast (especially since I now had plenty of space to store it). He returned...with a banana. A little late for that, Riley.
We cracked a few jokes about my morning wake up, and both started to get our stuff together, allowing the bathroom to return to a pre-hazardous air quality. We were nearly finished with the packing when Riley decided to hop in the shower. Thinking nothing of it, I continued shuffling around the room making sure we didn't leave anything behind. Suddenly, I about-faced and raced to the bathroom.
Banging on the door, I started pleading for Riley to get out of the shower (possibly the state) - it was back. Why does it always come back? I was in a panic; my sphincter muscles were no longer capable of containing the wrath that was overdue and unyielding. The attack was as relentless as Riley, because he shouted back that he didn't care, and encouraged me to come in the bathroom and "just go."
Why someone who frequented that region of my body would be OK with me wreaking havoc on the plumbing a foot or two away from them is beyond me, but I had no choice. He wouldn't budge and I had already concluded that the trashcan in the room would have likely melted. I rushed through the doorway, dropping trou mid-hurdle.
I still have nightmares about what happened next. A mere arm's length from my naked, showering boyfriend, I cowered on the toilet and released. Physically, I was reaching a peaceful state, while my anxiety levels spiked more aggressively than *NSYNC's hair in the 90's. I'm not sure if it was more for him or for me, but he seemingly attempted to comfort my embarrassment by singing loudly. It didn't help. Nothing could. Both of us were undoubtedly traumatized.
Needless to say, we weren't together much longer following that incident. Truthfully, I would rather have my eyelids paper-cut with cardboard followed up with a lemonade waterboarding than suffer through that with another boyfriend. At least I lost some weight during the whole travesty - I suppose that's a win in my book.