I have been under the weather the last few days, seemingly because of some ill-timed ordered pizza I shoved down my esophagus on Monday (or so I thought). For the last three days my diarrhea has spoken volumes while I myself have been silent (along with my blog). So it was only to be expected that my determination to maintain my regular work hours amidst my bowel's misfortune would ultimately result in a catastrophic situation. This inevitable circumstance saw fruition yesterday on Valentine's Day on my way to the train after work. While I was briskly walking across the street, it happened. I soiled myself. This wasn't on purpose. In fact, I can't even call it a mistake. The diarrhea emerged like a thief in the night; totally unexpected. One would naturally assume that I was trying to create some sort of flatulence but alas no. It was completely involuntary. So there I was, in the middle of the road with secretly soiled underpants. I stopped dead in my tracks (Thank Mary and Joseph that there were no cars on the road). I was completely astonished at what had just occurred in my Hanes. And then something extraordinary happened; even more extraordinary than the Valentine's surprise. A thought popped in my head almost as quickly as the diarrhea made its grand entrance. Without missing a beat, a voice came to me and said "This will be funny later." I recognized this to be the voice of Jesus. He has spoken to me many times before, like the time I almost considered switching cell phone providers (Jesus always knows when to chime in). I took a sigh a relief, of course being cautious not to become too relaxed lest I release additional diarrhea.
With this new found joy in my heart and unwelcome present in my pants I had a very important decision to make. I had the option of walking back to work five blocks to deal with the situation. The other option was to grin and bare a twenty minute train ride home in hopes that no respectable individual would sit next to me. I chose the latter assuming it would be a better punch line later. So the diarrhea and I boarded the train (I did not purchase an additional ticket for the diarrhea. Thank God she wasn't caught). I conspicuously took a seat at the very back of the train which was the sparsest in terms of population. My eyes widened with every stop as I gazed at boarding passengers all the while praying that no one would venture towards my diarrhea's direction. My prayers were answered (presumably by Jesus himself or perhaps Allah) as I remained solitary for the duration of the ride through all ten stops with only my settling diarrhea to comfort me. I arrived at my stop. I stood up (which is the most joyful experience for anyone who has recently diarrhea-ed themselves). I took a brisk walk of shame with my head hanging low toward my apartment building impatiently anticipating a dive into my shower. I practically sprinted past the front desk security and onto the elevator with additional prayers being answered as I rode up to the eighth floor again in solitary confinement. With no front desk security to look puzzled at me, I ran in full Ussain Bolt force down the long hallway to my unit. I burst through my front door. The next thing I knew, I was naked in the shower surrounded by the smell of a mountain breeze, the latest fragrance of the generic brand of men's body wash I purchased from Target (the "t" is silent). Frankly, I don't recall even taking my clothes off. I assume the experience was so horrifying that I blocked it from my memory. I don't even know what I did with my underwear. I probably put them in the garbage disposal.
After washing up and drying my body with my cheap hundred thread towel (also from Target), I launched at my computer perched on my bed so I could begin furiously typing a hilarious blog at the previous amusing antics I just experienced. Unfortunately the words did not materialize on the page because by the time my computer had started up, I had passed out on the bed and didn't wake up until thirteen hours later, just in time to go to work. Dehydration anyone?
What diarrhea has taught me over the years is that we are all human. We are all completely ridiculous and poop ourselves often, way into our adult years. That's just what it means to be alive. The other thing I learned is that diarrhea is very funny, even when you are carrying it around with you. This was a real revelation for me because I have been dealing with perpetual diarrhea for the last six years now and this was the first time that diarrhea seemed to force itself upon me and just happen. Every other diarrhea story I have written or can remember involves me furiously trying to fight off the urge to poop myself at an inconvenient time and ultimately ends in a happy ending where I win the fight and find a bathroom in the nick of time. The one common thread that has remained constant even though I have broken my string of success stories is that every diarrhea story I have involves public transportation. I am not sure what those two things have in common but I'm guessing Lucifer is involved (that or Jesus has a very good sense of humor). So for those of you who spent yesterday giving undeserved blowjobs or maxing out your stolen credit for someone whom you love yet cheats on you regularly and hasn't told you about their "cold sores" should bask in the fact that single people like me spent in learning life lessons from an unconditional companion who will always stay with me for the rest of my life; diarrhea. Something a box of chocolates only wishes it could be.
Happy Valentine's Day
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