My Mind Recalls...

6-15-2015

The other day, at the local Wal-Mart, I again experienced one of life's truly frantic situations.  We had just left a very satisfying lunch at the Taco Bell, (don't get ahead of me here!), and as bad luck would have it, the Mexican quisene seemed to be forcing a certain, uh, evacuative activity in the lower rear echelons of my body. 
I excused myself from SWMBO, and made a beeline to the men's room at the front of the store; as sometimes happens, it was a VERY close call.
Let's say it was "clench and pray" time!
This time, as usual, I made it with just a bit of time to spare.
Luck has not always been with me, however.
We were living in Las Vegas, NV at the time in question.
First off, I need to apologize to an unamed cleaning person in Las Vegas; his name is unknown, but he will recognize himself when and if he reads this.
If memory serves, we had also just partaken of a meal at the restaurant on the same parking lot; but, this was before 'the problem' became chronic, or even urgent. That day was a first, a seminal moment, if you will.
Anyway, as it comes back, it seems that we were in the garden area, when the urgency seemed to make itself clearly known.  I was closest to the back of the store, so hied myself back to the restrooms located in that area.  As the wide doors came into view, I could see that there was an "Closed for Cleaning" sign on the men's room!
Well, I can PROBABLY make it to the one in front, right?
So, the ten mile trip to the front of the store began, as the pressure started to build really seriously, now.  It's hard to walk so far with your butt cheeks clenched when internal forces are fighting your every muscle, even in light of frantic mental prayers went up with increasing urgency.  "Please, God...". 
It's really hard to look cool, too.
Anyway, there was no sign or cleaning cart at the oasis in the front of the store, so my spirits soared, even as my consciousness seemed to be fading, and my head started to swim and I broke into a very serious hard sweat.
I tried to walk around the corner into the bathroom as calmly and as sophisticated as I could, but once in, it was an undignified sprint to the empty stall; they were all empty, so there was no concern about offending anyone else in the can.
HALLELUJAH!
I ran in and slammed the door, locking it with one smooth fluid motion.
Have you ever had to 'go' so badly that you actually found yourself dancing as you tried frantically to loosen your belt, unsnap the jeans and lower the zipper?  Hopping from foot to foot?
Well, I did, and things were beginning to REALLY get out of control.  IT WAS TIME!!!
Quickly, the belt flew open, the snap was undone, and the zipper flew toward the earth at breakneck speed, as did my jeans and underware with them!  In one undignified move, I was cleared of clothing and bent over like in a gym class exercise routine. 
EVERYTHING CUT LOOSE as I lowered myself to the seat at breakneck speed; it all happened in less than a millisecond, if I recall correctly.
What a relief.
As the noise and foul discharge finally came to an end, I took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from my brow, relaxed and tried to compose myself; it would be necessary to leave soon.  And I was up for that!
First order of business was to check my underwear; it looked good; no mess to be embarrassed about!  No need to worry about the back of my jeans attracting undue attention while I sought out SWMBO.  After all, I had grey hair, and didn't want to give anyone a chance to pity my appearance: "Poor old man, Gina; look at the poor bugger.  Hope he gets home OK."
So, after finishing up the paperwork, I stood and snuck a peek into the porcelain bowl.
What the heck?
It contained only the soiled paper!
Then, slowly I lifted my gaze a bit in realization, and saw why the bowl would not need to be cleaned:  the discharge had never made it that far.  Remember the 'bent over me'?
That's the point in time that the dam burst, if you will.
The wall behind the toilet, from about three feet up the wall to the back of the seat, bore an unbroken  line of waste about four inches wide descending to the porcelain just inside the back of the bowl.
Sadly, the sensor in the wall, you know the one that tells the stall to flush because you're leaving when you move away from the throne?  Well, that was pretty much deeply buried,  so the thing couldn't flush and the whole sorry display had to await entry of  the next poor bastard assigned to clean the restroom at Wal Mart.
It would be true kismet if he was the same guy who put up the "Closed for Cleaning" sign in the back of the store.  Serves him right.
 It was about three years before I could tell SWMBO the story, and I thought she would bust a gut laughing about it.  In retrospect, it was funny; funny to me at the time, and enjoyed by SWMBO years later.
Now, when I have to leave her in Wal Mart, she always asks if I'm going to make it, and when I return, she says, "Well, you clean?"
Sure do love her...