I had a rather embarrassing visit to my homeland of Switzerland last year. It was Expo-02 -- an Exposition that is normally held every 25 to 30 years (although the last one was in 1964). The theme of this Exposition was more artsie-fartsie, with the Arteplage being the main focus. Though some of the pavilions were indeed very interesting, many were, shall we say, rather meinungslos. There was, though, for the first time, exhibitions covering the topic of sex (and AIDS)!

My friend and I drove to Yverdon at the southwestern end of Lac Neuchâtel, one of the four locations where this Exposition was held. We parked at a Migrosgarage -- a public parking place owned by one Migros, of the major supermarket chains. As we left the parking facility, my friend read a sign indicating that the closing time was 19 Hrs -- 7:00.

Towards the end of the day, even though we had not been able to see everything, we had return back to Bevaix. Julian went off to fetch the car, while I opted to wait here near the main entry for the Expo in Yverdon. As I had waited, I began to feel the first pangs of having to take a dump. I thought it was no be deal, as Julian would be back with his car shortly.

Well, naught was to be the case! I waited... and waited... and still waited! No 1989 Citroën wagon with its characteristic yellowish headlamps! By now, my urge was growing ever stronger, and I began to struggle to hold it in. About another ten or fifteen minutes had passed, and still no Citroën! Finally, I spotted a figure running my way. It was Julian... with no car! He came running and told me that he had some schlechte Nachrichten. He evidently had misread the sign earlier that day at the Migrospark -- the garage closed at 18 Hrs -- not at 19!

Great! No car! Just great! The garage would not open until Monday morning, one day after the closing day of the Expo. We had no car for the rest of the weekend -- for the rest of the Expo! We would have to use the SBB (Swiss Federal railways) and other public transport for the duration. True, public transit here is prima Klasse, but we still had the inconvenience of being forced to rely on fixed schedules.

But there was another more immediate problem brewing...me! I suppose I should of gone back into the Expo grounds and queued up for a loo there before, but I didn't want to miss Julian. Now, it was urgent and I had no place to go.

We headed back to the Expo along the river. It had gotten to the point where I was really struggling not to let loose. At one point some stuff leaked out. It was not gas, nor solid -- I was to have the runny shits.

But we kept going. Julian suggested that we simply stay over night here in Yverdon, but we had already had accommodations in Bevaix with some friends. So there was no point in overnighting in Yverdon. But I still had to keep my full attention upon my more immediate problem. Before us, about forty meters away, was the masonry overpass that carried the SBB rail traffic in and out of Yverdon. Then it happened -- somehow, my attention was distracted, and a river of hot stinky and sticky tawny yellowish semi-liquid stool began to pour out of me. It filled my shorts and ran down both my legs, upon my shoes and socks, leaving a trail behind me. How embarrassing! There were other people passing us by -- I know they must have seen this accident.

Now what to do? I had a dilemma. Either we continue on, and I present myself as a disgrace and embarrassment to Yverdon as this disgusting mess; or I hop over the railing and down a 40° bank into the cold water of the river. To me, that was not a viable option, so I had opted instead to take my chances of being a total embarrassment in the centre de Ville of Yverdon. It was approaching dusk now, so perhaps not too many people would notice. But the stench was really overpowering!

This decision had lasted a grand total of one meter. Then I told Julian, "Nah, over I go!" And before he could say boo, over the railing I went, smearing my fecal matter on the rail as I went down the embankment. This was the only option, as I was just too embarrassed to go into town like that. So now, I had to test my ground, trying not to slip and injure myself or fall into this cold river and wind up floating to God knows where.

I very carefully inched my way to the waters edge. En route, even though this was not a very good time for such, I felt another load beckoning at my rear end. Well, the damage had already been done, what the hell -- who cares at this point? So, I just stood there on this embankment and let loose. Another load of this vile tawny yellowish stuff shot out of me. It filled my shorts, poured down my already stained legs and onto my already contaminated shoes and socks, and ran down this embankment between my shoes en route to the flowing water.

But now Julian and I were not alone. Some children had gathered as an audience. Great! Just what the doctor ordered! I was a real hit, all right! I was worried now that either the police or the Sanität (ambulance) would be called. I stepped a bit to the side to be clear of my foul mess -- at this point, I didn't need to slip in it.

I continued to the water's edge. I tested the water and the embankment, putting my left shoe in to see how stable it was. The water was c-o-l-d! And it was full of leaves and other debris. (Not shit, however -- yet!) My foothold was successful, so I proceeded to put my right foot in the water as well, careful not to be overtaken by the current. So far, I had both feet in the water. I slowly proceeded to wade further, feeling the cold rushing current flow past my lower legs. I continued as far as I thought I could, before the current would be just too strong. When I had thought that I had reached my limit, Julian called out as to suggest squatting in the water without advancing any further. So I simply squatted in the water.

At one point, the current almost had the upper hand, but I was able to catch myself. I then lay back upon the embankment and slowly slid further into the drink, with both my arms outstretched to keep hold. I finally got far enough into the water so I could scavenge my shorts and all the parts of my body contaminated with my own fecal matter. This I did in full view of a curious audience, as if I were performing some Expo-related circus act or something.

Well, I was ever loving freezing with the water rushing over me. I thought that I had done the trick, and decided to reverse the procedure. I began manipulating myself back out of the water, when I felt another load yet to come! So I again let myself into the water, and dumped my load under the surface so hardly anything would be noticed. There was a vortex of my foul stool, but I think only I could see it.

I waited until my entrails had decided to calm down once again. Only then did I attempt once more to climb out of this cold water. Finally, it was all over, at least for the time being. I was dripping wet, and the sun had by now completely disappeared over the horizon. I made my way back to the railing, mounted it and flung myself over, inadvertently splashing water on Julian in the process. I hoped that enough of this diarrhea had come out of me that I could continue to the SBB station, at least. I was freezing cold, and covered with leaves and other debris from that brackish water.

I only had to use the loo on the train once. And I nearly had another accident as we headed up the hill from the SBB station in Bevaix to our friends' place.

--The Other David