Yes, dinner at the Greek place in Newton, Massachusetts was great: beef kabob, freshly steamed vegetables, and perfectly seasoned and baked potato slices. Yes, I enjoyed that meal with gratitude, but little did I know what I fell in love with was a sleeping beauty, waiting to be awaken by the roaring lower intestine with a gentle kiss of the gravity of 9.8 meters per seconds squared. Oh gravity, thou art a heartless bitch.

As the morning proceeded, I drank the usual cup of coffee and listened to the noisy weatherman on Fox; I did not feel the need to crap and felt the day was not going to start out in a brown fashion. As I left the house at 7:30 a.m., I briefly gazed at my toilet and gave it a smile as if to say “not today buddy”. What I failed to register in that mere second was that the toilet seemed worried.

By 7:45 a.m. I was in the middle of the infamous Boston traffic on 93 on the outskirt of the north end, but as I looked at the clock I wasn't worried at all; my class at Umass Boston starts at 9 am. I instinctively knew I was going to make in class well before it starts. Today, though was the day when my lower intestine finally beat my instinct.

The normalcy of my rather boring commute through the Bostonian traffic unexpectedly ended as I took the last sip of my morning coffee. While my meaningless curses towards the solo drivers driving down the car pool lane without a sense of guilt or shame were buried by my favorite radio station blasting through the speakers, I suddenly felt a sharp signal in the lower belly, followed by a chill down my spine. Briefly taking a step back from this short writing, I can only wish I’d have sensed this devil's challenge before I left the house, in that mere second when my porcelain friend gave warning, as if it knew what was going to happen to my underpants later on.

It was 8:25 a.m. when I felt a second and bigger wave of poop. This was no joke. I immediately unbuttoned my pants to allow extra space to wait it out. My body always sends recurring waves of urges with less interval and more force, and this case was no different. My rectum was running out of patience, but the stupid guy in front of me kept yielding to other drivers.

At 8:40 a.m. I finally passed through the Ted Williams tunnel. Umass campus was mere exits away. The traffic jam suddenly disappeared and I floored the gas pedal toward daylight. I was finally able to redirect the force of holding the crap into stepping on the gas, and amazingly, I was able to exit the highway in under a minute.

Every second I spent at the exit intersection was agonizing. My vision was getting yellow, and I my left ass cheek lost feeling after intense minutes of clinching it to reinforce my puckering rectum.

The campus was right in front of me, taunting me with its accessible plumbing.

I tried not to think about the school toilet or any other kind of toilet whatsoever. My already-failed instinct told me that celebrating the unknown victory early would be a fatal mistake. This time, it was right. As the final traffic light in front of the school turned green, so must have my face, but not for long. The long battle has finally reached its climax.

That's it. I've lost. My shorts were no longer empty. By the cushiness and the warmth swarming my ass, I knew I’d let out a beast. The clock was pointing to 8:45 a.m., but I knew I was going to be late for class. In fact, I knew I was going to miss it completely. With a will to clean up in stealthy fashion, I turned the car around. I sincerely apologized to my left ass cheek as it firmly believed that I could finally leave it to unclench; yet contrary to its expectation, I demanded it stand at attention to prevent it from pancaking the liquid shame that might be already gushing out onto the car seat.

By the time I drove back home, I realized I’d spent almost two hours in traffic fighting with the poop one way or another. As I stepped out of my car, I immediately checked to see if any leftovers were smeared on the seat. Praise the lord, It was clean... visually.

I held my pants tight against my legs to seal the demon within them, but once again gravity's pull was beyond my control. Each step I took to walk up the two stories to my room in this quiet apartment dropped small packets of poop as Santa Claus himself might do, quietly sneaking into each child's room to drop a pleasant surprise next to his or her feet.

While I stood in the bathtub shower, I gazed at the toilet. It remained exactly the way it was at 7:30 this morning. And as the water splashed around me, I imagined how the day might have worked out if only I’d taken a dump before leaving earlier. If only… If only…

I learned a valuable lesson today. When my wild imagination for some crazy reason personifies the toilet into a worrying being, worrying about my no-so-distant future, I’d better listen to it.

And I’m never going back to that Greek restaurant again.