No Way To Hold It

Ever been somewhere with no bathroom and a terrible case of the shits starts to haunt you?

Recently, I was hitting some balls at Bruner driving range after a few beers watching a football game.  A couple of balls into it, my stomach started twisting and I got that feeling that the Hoover Dam just broke in my stomach and the flood gates were about to open (I’m not talking about a number 1 either).

Bruner driving range is operated from a trailer in a field that sits on the outskirts of a residential neighborhood.  I ran in and asked the dude if there was a bathroom and he said no.  I looked at him square in the eyes and told him I really had to go.  He still said no!  Shit, now what was I going to do.

There was another customer in there, so I walked out of the trailer than noticed some type of shed/living quarters next to the trailer.  It might even be where that dude lives (he is the only one I ever see behind the counter there).  There was a bathroom in there that was visible from outside, but I didn’t want to take a ferocious dump in his place.  About that time, the feeling subsided and I felt I was in the clear.

I started hitting balls again, but after about 2 minutes, it was ON again.  And this time,  I really did have to think quick.  I couldn’t drop trough right there because there was one of those cutesy couples in their 20′s where the guy (and he was a tool) was trying to show his girlfriend (who was pretty hot) how to golf.  I quickly scanned the area looking for a secluded spot in the bushes, when I noticed an outhouse across the street in the residential neighborhood.

Time was of the essence and I knew this.  I scurried (simultaneously clenching) towards salvation.  As I passed my car, I logically deduced that I should grab any extra napkins from my car in case of no TP.  I did that quickly, and within no time, reached the port-o-potty.

There was no new construction anywhere near here.  Questions rang through me head.  Who’s port-o-potty was this?  Why is it here?  I slipped into stealth mode, avoided anyone who might be watching, and entered certain relief like a ninja.  Boy, was I smart… there wasn’t a square to spare in here.

Scared to go full ass in this unknown land, I squatted as best as possible, trying to avoid a miscalculation where I’d take friendly fire in my shorts.  My legs were burning because I couldn’t sit, but I did my best.  Without describing the gory details, I had enough backup napkins and totally avoided any spillage.

What seemed like minutes passed by, but I snuck out, careful to go unnoticed by any local turd burglers.  I nonchalantly hustled across the street and back to my spot on the range, seemingly like a ghost.  It worked.  I finished my bucket, drove home, took a shower, and lived to see another day.