It’s been 15 minutes since you wolfed down that pork chop shish kebab you bought off a street cart. It tasted great, but your guts don’t take too kindly to strangers. A grumble sounds the alarm and you are suddenly faced with a potential life-altering decision: Is this a fart or poop?
You’re breaking out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, you feel like an army of fire ants are trying to eat through your stomach. You look left, you look right and you realize this is a race against time and biology.
Logic has flown right out the window. You are no longer thinking straight and MUST…FIND…A…RESTROOM. Wild thoughts are gonna run through that head of yours, but you must ignore them. You must remain civil. This ain’t “The Lord of the Flies” and even though that patch of bushes looks like a good place to squat, it is not! Get a grip!
You find the best restroom given the circumstances. Or rather, a restroom that at least functions like one. It must include:
A) toilet paper
B) a lock
C) a seat (unless you have complete faith in your thighs to pull-off the “hover technique”).
In most cases, this will be a restroom in a fast food joint. Risky, but necessary.
You’re in! Social obligations are officially gone. You’ve got the confidence of the ’96 Bulls. You no longer care about outcomes ‘cuz you’ve made it without second-guessing how much you really like this pair of underwear.
You know that scene in “Star Wars” when the Rebels blow up the Death Star and everybody’s flying around in their zoom-ships, cheering like maniacs? That’s how you feel right now.
After finishing, you are in a state of joy. You might feel a bit light-headed. This is the stage where your body is returning back to normal. It kinda feels like you just nailed a perfect score on the SATs and kicked a game-winning home run in kickball and won an Emmy for the script you wrote for “South Park.”
You walk out of that restroom, brush the dirt off your shoulders and make like nothing happened at all — ‘cuz it didn’t.