Quite Possibly the Worst Thing EVER (and that's no Damianic hyperbole)
Greetings gents,
Well, I'm sorry that you guys missed out on today's run. It just may have been the absolute worst experience of my life. Luckily Dave, Nate, and Gilmore were there to witness some of the horror. Let me explain.
Peter and Nate were doing a nice little 25 miler, so Dave and I joined them through the UCLA loop. We decided to stop at Drake for some water. I felt it would be wise to scurry down to the bathroom, so I headed down there for a quick deposit in the butt bank. Little did I know the unadulterated travesty that was waiting for me there.
I ran in and the seat cover was down. Always mindful of making potty stops as brief as possible, I had already dropped trou on the way over and was ready to unload as soon as the seat was lifted. Unfortunately, upon lifting the seat, I saw a horrendous bowl of what may as well have been chunky shit soup. It was that filthy, horrible type of diarrhea that just turns the water brown and really has no resemblance to solid bowel movements. At this point, I made the worst decision I have ever made, but it was the only clear decision available to me at the time. I mean, I was right there, all ready to go, mere milliseconds from dumping my load, and all that separated me from glorious relief was a nasty toilet bowl. So, still in the "ready to go" position, I raised up slightly to avoid any splatter that the flush might cause, and pulled down the handle.
At first, nothing happened. Then I heard a slight gurgling noise that caught my attention just enough to turn around and look down at what might be going on. At that very instant, some villainous devil watching me from afar sprung his plan into action. Just as I turned my head around to look, still hovering over the bowl, some horrible pressurize backup, or whatever the hell it was, released, and an ungodly bubble erupted to the surface, spraying that very same vile, chunky shit water on a ballistic course right out of the bowl. Guess who was waiting there, ready to receive it? That's right.
Before I could move, before I could react, it erupted all over me. One especially vicious projectile found its mark just below my left eye. The rest pretty much saturated anything from my waist to about half way down my thighs - that area most notably housing my shorts.
A brief period of complete and utter disbelief and disgust hit me. Then I began to attempt damage control. For the first time I surveyed the facilities and found, to my horror, that there were neither any form of paper products, nor soap. At first I tried to splash away some of the filth with handfuls of water in an attempt not to touch anything, but that soon proved futile. I was forced to wipe away unwanted matter with my hands.
When I finally got the visible portions of my body as clean as a hurried rinsing could, I dashed out of there before the gagging reflex that was starting to occur added vomit to the mix. I ran up to the upper level of Drake, where my unwitting companions were waiting, and informed them that I NEEDED to find another bathroom, one with paper towels and SOAP for Christ's sake, ASAP. I gave them a very brief idea of what had occurred, they duly took several steps back from me, and we headed out of UCLA. Unfortunately, I don't think they realized the grave necessity of the situation, as they continued on the path we had been traveling until then. We wound our way out of Westwood and over to the VA. While running, the stench was not bad. But at every stop, the stagnant aroma was overpowering. My hands dried off and became somewhat tight from the dried filth covering them. Probably worst of all, after about 15 minutes of running, the points where my shorts were in nearly constant contact with my body began to burn. For all I knew, the fricking Ebola virus was eating away at my flesh. That's about what it felt like. But we continued on our merry way, nary a bathroom in sight.
FINALLY we got to the promised land - Bundy and San Vincente. The rest of my troupe wisely continued on as I rocketed into the bathroom. This one was not equipped with one of those Sally little soap dispensers, oh no. It had the full on Boraxo, powdered soap dispenser. That stuff is badass. It'll clean away any filth, no matter how tough. I was set. I walked over, ready to take care of my hands first off, and pushed up on the lever to release the divinely provided powder. Yet there was no god in that bathroom my friends, for all that came out were a few crystals of the precious substance. I considered weeping.
Oh, I almost forgot to mention, because my shorts were pretty much saturated with shit water, as I ran they made a little shitty foam from the rubbing between my thighs. I removed my shorts, rubbed out the shit foam, rinsed them thoroughly, and ringed them out. Seriously, it was basically brown water that came out when I rang them out. It was DISGUSTING. I rinsed them out a few more times, wiped myself off with paper towels as best I could, and headed out for 26th in search of soap.
Of course, when I got there, the bathroom at 26th was locked and said out of order. So I headed down to Wilshire and 26th because I knew there was another gas station down there. Of course, they didn't even have a bathroom, or at least not one that was obviously available. I wasn't about to go inside, reeking of filth, and inquire about a bathroom. So, dejected, I stumbled back to 4th street. I got there in just under 1:50 min. Luckily I was driving my old car. I covered the seat and steering wheel in any article of clothing or towel I could find. I hurried home, ran straight up into the bathroom, jumped in the shower with filthy shorts still on, and began to scrub like a madman.
Eventually I emerged a new, clean, revitalized trash man. But that was just about the worst experience I can possibly remember. So I am writing this as a public service announcement. No matter how bad you have to go, NEVER flush a toilet that is clogged with filth, lest some equally horrific fate fall upon you. The strange thing is, even though I was so ready to go when the incident occurred, it is now roughly 5 hours later and I still have yet to feel the pangs of number 2. I think it crawled so far back up inside me in horror that it won't be venturing out for quite some time now.
Good day to you gentlemen. I think it's a good time for a nice, hearty meal. Perhaps a bowl of soup?
Enjoy,
LBTM