WARNING: This story is of a graphic nature. Do not eat or use heavy machinery while reading this!
Spending a lot of time on the road has its obstacles. Here is one you may have never considered. A little over a decade ago, I did a show in small town in SW Minnesota. The next night I was in South Dakota, so I started on my way West, so I could hit Interstate 90. To get there I had to drive on a desolate highway for about 25 miles. So soon after I begin on my way, I started to feel a strong rumble in my abdomen. I looked at my Rand McNally and noticed there was a town about 10 miles, so I thought I could hold it. Wasn’t feeling great, but I made it the 10 miles, only to discover this town had no services. I was still another 10 miles until I got to the Interstate. Panic started to set in.
Now I should mention that I had gained some weight and someone had recommended I try the Atkins diet. I was in the initial week phase where you basically just chow on meat and cheese, so I hadn’t taken a dump in 5 days. My body had decided that this was the moment for the launch sequence to be activated. I sweated, I groaned as 10 minutes seemed like hours. My ass cheeks were clenched so tightly you would’ve thought I was sharing a car with the head of the IMF. Then I saw it ahead. I had made it! Exalted as I saw the Interstate, I then started to have a panic attack as I realized there was no services at this exit. COME ON!!!
Bent over, barely being able to look over the steering wheel, I saw there was another exit in another 8 miles. With little choice, I continued on. I wanted to drive 100 mph, but I was feeling really shaky, so I kept the cruise at 65. Finally a sign said 1 mile. And there was a sign for a gas station for services. I can do it! I can do it! I pull off to the exit. Drive to the gas station. It’s fucking closed! How dare them! The universe has conspired against my constipation relief!
I was at the end of my rope. I felt like I was part of the Donner Party, knowing that I was going to have to embrace the unspeakable. In this situation, I would have stepped out of my car and squatted down like an animal, except that…it was January in South Dakota. I was driving in a blizzard of snow, with the windchill around 25 below. I had hardly noticed because my eternal temperature was fluctuating between 95 and 105, but now I realized I needed to think quickly. I pulled over to an isolated frontage road. I grabbed 2 grocery bags from my backseat (thankfully I had chosen plastic over paper) and double bagged them together. I then pushed my front seat as far back as possible and pulled the steering wheel up. Then I undid my pants and let it fly.
I could pretend it wasn’t a glorious feeling, but I would be lying. It was beyond orgasmic. The relief that I felt after the protein sewage rippled out my sphincter was one of a special brand of relief I’ve never experienced before. I then took a few Burger King napkins and took care of my mess, then shoving them into my grocery bags, tying them at the top. I opened the car door getting a blast from the arctic chill and tossed the bag into the ditch. The steam that arose from it looked like it was filled with dry ice. I could only imagine some orange jumpsuit-ed person picking up trash to complete some type of public service aspect of their parole stumbling across this bag after the thaw.
Hmm, what is in this bag? Holy Shit! What the hell happened here? Christ, grab some chalk so I can mark this area. Oh and call CSI so they can check this crime scene.
I got in my car and started to drive again. About 3 miles later an exit came up which had numerous gas stations and fast food joints. Some kind of cosmic joke, sure, but there is no way I could have held my great mudflood for even one more minute, so I had no regrets. I got to my hotel a couple hours later and took a long shower like I had just been part of some frat initiation gone horribly wrong. And that is my story. Can’t wait for my kids to find this story on the World Wide Web someday.
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