Shitting My Pants

Shitting my pants

There are about twenty of us there for happy hour. I ate buta kimuchi at a downtown restaurant in Seattle called Kushi, and had a pint of Olympia. Around 8:30, everyone is leaving and I notice that I really have to go to the bathroom. Stephen, from my group, is asking me if I want to go to GameWorks, to see a video of a fight, presented by the fighter. I give a noncommittal response. Kris, who had texted me about tonights event, tells me he is going with Sarah to go eat “pie” - it does not sound like an invitation. I have said a few good byes already, but I suddenly notice that I have to take a dump, I stop worrying about if I have said all my goodbyes and walk briskly to the toilet. There is a girls and boys bathroom. A girl from my group is waiting outside. I ask if they are both occupied. “Yes, there is a guy in the mens and a guy in the women's, too” she says. I wait there. While waiting, two cute Indian girls from our party come for the bathroom, too. Then another guy comes. The guys bathroom opens up and I go in, and take a shit. I unclench my cheeks and everything comes out in one load. I spend a few minutes more pushing to empty my bowls. Then, imagining the line of people waiting outside, I wipe my already sore ass, wash my hands and head out, hoping that it doesn’t stink for the next person - I think it does. 

When I open the door, there is no one there. Well, I wish I would have known that. I go outside and Kris and Sarah are outside. I say goodbye and start walking my bike home because my legs are so sore from riding it. Around three blocks from Kushi’s, I get on my bike and ride all the way to ID light rail station. At the station, I can see the stadium nearby all lit up. There is a Seahawks game going on. I decide to go check it out. I bicycle down there circle around the gates of the stadium. A fan offers me his ticket, but I am warned they check to see if the ticket has already been used. I decide I don’t feel like risking it. I head back to light rail. 

I have to take a dump again. I start debating whether it is better to ride my bike home or take the Link to Columbia City and ride home from there. I decide on the Link, because I want to try taking my bike on the light rail. However, after I buy my ticket, my bowls give me a signal that is so strong I stop thinking of making it all the way home and just decide to go find a bathroom. There is a Uwajima market nearby. I get to the entrance and park my bike. Go inside and ask the first clerk I see where the bathroom is.

It is closed.

Really? 

Yeah, it is in the food court, and the food court is closed.

I thank him and go outside and get my bike. I am thinking about riding back to ID, to catch the light rail, but don’t want to give up yet. I see a Shell station across the street. Ride my bike over there. There is no bike rack, so I search around and see a power pole with a diagnal cable attached to the ground. I quickly dismount and chain my bike to it. A bum is at the door opening the door for customers. He opens the door for me and then asks me if I have any change. I rush inside muttering a “no” but not slowing down. I search for the bathroom, find it and walk in a run towards it. It has a yellow caution sign that says out of order. My frustration starts to turn to anger. I calm myself down and resolve to get home. 

I take the light rail to Columbia CIty. My stomach gives me no grief, till I reach my stop. When I get up, it hits me again, this time harder than before. I get off and bike for home. At the hill about 5 minutes before my place, my stomach tells me it can’t make it anymore. There is loud music from a live concert coming from near an expresso bar. I chain my bike to a bike rack, don’t bother to turn off my bike lights and run into the expresso bar. The concert is from inside the bar. There are lots of people. I ask where the bathroom is fearing they will want me to order. The lady points to the bathroom nearby. I make a mental note to order a drink after I go to the bathroom. Because there is a concert going on in the bar, there is a couple sitting directly in front of the bathroom door. I ask them to let me in to the bar. By the time I am getting the door to the bathroom, I cannot hold my bowels anymore and I feel shit come between my cheeks. I get into the bathroom, close and lock the door. Pull my pants down and notice a thin streak of shit lying in the bottom of my underwear. I don’t care. I happily take a shit. Half way through the shit, the band finishes. Again, I worry about people lining up outside the door. A minute later, there is a pull of the door and the catch of the lock, keeping the door from being opened. I hurry up and finish. I thought about going commando - washing my underwear off in the sink and putting it in my pocket. But I abandon that idea. I use some TP to wipe the shit off my underwear and pull up my pants, wash my hands. I briefly smell the air, hopping that it does not smell too bad and head out the door. There are two young women waiting outside. I smile. With shit stains on my underwear and fear of my stomach acting up again, I decide to go straight home. 

I walk out to my bike and the front light is turned off. I chuckle to myself. Two women walk by me on the sidewalk. I say a male hello to female hello, doing my best “Hey ladies!” voice. They respond in unison, in their female to male voice “Hellloo”, real friendly. I feel good, but then dissapointed because I don’t have anymore banter to say, realize that my underwear are shit stained, and get on my bike and ride home.