We went to a newer tapas restaurant and sat at the bar. I drank a couple Heinekens while my wife had a couple liquor drinks. We ordered a few of their tapas selections and started eating.
Then, out of nowhere, I felt a pain in my stomach that almost knocked me off my bar stool. Although there was loud music playing in the bar area, I think everyone in the place could hear the rumble inside my belly. It was like a mini-gastric-earthquake ripping through my body.
I knew I had to get to a bathroom within about 5 minutes or I was going to basically shit myself.
Now, if you’ve read my blog before you know that I’m not exactly a huge fan of public restrooms and I was doing every mental exercise I could to trick my stomach from unloading.
And I also was still in the somewhat new “dating” phase with my soon to be wife and needed to remain cool and un-sweaty.
But, the fecal gods had an entirely different plan for me that night. As a couple beads of sweat started trickling down my forehead, I ordered water.
My wife looked at me strangely and knew something was up. I never ordered water at a bar, absolutely never.
“Honey, are you alright,” she asked.
“Oh yeah, I’m great, I think I just need to pee. I will be right back,” I replied.
Wow, “nice lie asshole,” I said to myself.
Why couldn’t I just tell her that my stomach was wrenched in pain and I was going to destroy this tapas restaurant’s bathroom?
Well, because I have some serious bathroom/shitting in public issues that I wasn’t ready to share with her. I was still in the “show my feathers” courting stage of our relationship.
So, off to the bathroom I went. It was a nice, clean unisex bathroom with only one toilet.
Thank god, a one-seater, things were looking up. I locked the door behind me and immediately turned the water on in the sink, kind of to set the mental mood and make sure no one could hear me.
I dropped my pants and the second my pasty, white cheeks touched the porcelain seat, EXPLOSION!!! It was like a giant cow patty.
Finally, relief was mine…….. for the moment.
HOLY, FUCKING, SHIT………… the toilet would not flush. MAYDAY, MAYDAY………the toilet would not flush.
A million embarrassing scenarios started jumping through my mind.
My biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to flush and my awful stomach remnants would be on display for the next customer to see.
And the next customer would probably be a Playboy Playmate or someone I knew who happened to be in the same restaurant.
I pulled the back lid off and started tinkering with the mechanical innards, but nothing worked. My cow patty was not going anywhere.
Decision time: I washed my hands quickly and carefully cracked the door to see if anyone was waiting in the hallway. The coast was clear so I walked briskly back to the bar and stood next to my wife at the bat.
“Wow, that sure was a long pee. Aren’t you going to sit down,” she said.
“Nope, it’s time to go. We have to leave now,” I said as I put down plenty of cash next to our plates.
As we were walking out the door, I looked back over my shoulder and noticed a few employees gathering in the bathroom where I left my destruction.