1976, It was America's Bicentennial and the big park was filled with people that sultry July 4th. I ate my weight in food, a talent shared by every growing 14 year-old. Roasted corn on the cob, pork burgers, corn dogs, watermelon, ice cream, lemonade, junk of all description filled my belly.
Why this trip down memory lane? Because Wednesday night/Thursday morning I shat every morsel of food I have eaten in the intervening 36 years. I think I crapped out the Lindbergh baby. Somehow parts of Amelia Earhart's plane came boiling from my bunghole in a hot viscous liquid. It was like some unseen hand had slipped me a powerful enema. My room at the Hilton Garden Inn took on the fetid odor of a Port-o-pot after a chili eating contest at a biker rally. Dung beetles were complaining about the smell.
I soiled two pairs of tightey-whiteys and a pair of cotton gym shorts. It took two showers to clean myself up at various times. The sphincter will not hold a gallon of water while you have a coughing fit. I went through two rolls of toilet paper, and the box of tissues left by the maid. I opened the coffee service so I could use the napkins. I never left the toilet for more than 16 minutes for more than 8 hours. I know 'cause I kept track. I actually fell asleep on the toilet at least twice. Each time I woke with thunderous anal explosions that echoed through the darkened bathroom.
My colon settled down with the rising of the sun. I finally was able to abandon the throne long enough to shower and shave. I slipped on some jeans and went commando to the nearest Wal-Mart. I bought some replacement undergarments and a much needed bottle of Pepto. I drank half the bottle in the parking lot. I went back to my room at the hotel. I dressed for my customer visits, glad to have some underwear beneath my Dockers. I alternately held my breath and gagged as I packed. I left a couple of bucks on the nightstand for the maid.
My twisted bowels had finally recovered by supper time enough to eat a bit of Carolina BBQ before boarding the plane for home.