Sunday, September 23, 2012

Everyone poops, even Godzilla

We all have our own poop stories. There I said it, threw it out there for the majority of you to judge and criticize. But the rest of you, you know who you are, you are actually recollecting about you last good poop tale, wishing you had a blog so you could write about it. You also know what it is to iPoop, what it means to drop your kids off "at the pool" and still spit milk through your nose over a good fart joke.

But one thing that we all have in common, both story tellers and "little miss prissy" is that NO ONE likes to poop at the beach. That poop fact is listed somewhere between #5 Fear of sitting on an airplane toilet and #45 something about counting the leaves before wiping in the woods. However, sometimes you have to make exceptions to the rule because one's intestines can only take so much Orion beer, cheesy pizza washed down with a gallon water jug filled with red wine for dessert. Your wine soaked gut don't give a shit about your poop rules.

So this particular day, after an internal battle between wishing it away and making some hard choices, I politely excused myself from the beach and head towards the 90 degree, public restroom, which may as well been the powder room of Hades himself. Surely you didn't think I went in the water did you?

Side note: The Japanese are very creative with their small spaces. Most inside space is comprised of different levels, for this reason you may step down into a bathroom or up into a toilet stall. This was the case on this wickedly hot Saturday afternoon.

So I lock myself into the 3 ft by 9 foot standing coffin, I mean stall, and sit upon my porcelain "musical" throne and get to business. After five minutes I begin to wrap up and I hear the giggling of little Japanese children. They are playing in the cool sink water, washing their hands and having a great time out of the sun, into the shade and now in my kingdom. I think to myself, surely, I can wait them out, and become immediately frustrated that I didn't take advantage of the anonymity given to me just one minute earlier. But they don't leave and now I hear adults. Three minutes or sixty-five pass and now I am covered in sweat and slowly working myself into a mild panic.

I had to get out now and fast, forget time was of the essence. If I didn't get out and soon, I saw a premonition of me fast forward ten minutes slumped over a singing Japanese toilet in a public restroom with my swim skirt to my knees and my ridiculously huge sunhat dangling partway in the throne. I couldn't wait any longer.

So I "rupture" out of the stall and took one giant leap/ or trip towards the floor (remember the step). The children first see me, and then unfortunately smell me. I swear they froze in terror, mid-wash, with soap on their little hands. Can you imagine...giant blonde women falling out of what they thought was an empty stall, red faced with bug-like sunglasses, obnoxious straw hat and smelling of sweat and last night's Orion.

I didn't know whether to say hello or to ROAR.