A River Runs Through Her

Posted 08.13.2007 by vir4go (13)

Driving through Wyoming and Montana on a family vacation, my family was struck by the lack of civilization. Or, rather, what we had come to think of as civilization: namely chain restaurants, shiny gas stations, and herds of garish convenience stores always within striking distance. And, most importantly, plenty of restrooms.

We drove our rented Jeep Grand Cherokee through towns that seemed to consist of one gas station, one mom-and-pop cafe, a tow truck, and a few trailers. Population: 37. Barren, scraggly flats of sagebrush hugged the interstate as we blazed (nothing and no one to run into) through buffalo country.

A few miles from the Montana border, we stopped to refuel and grab some lunch at the only place available: a giant truck stop with a marquee hawking their "Famous Buffalo Burgers." Always more adventurous than my husband and our tweenage and ten-month-old daughters, I urged them to join me in sampling this local specialty. We chomped our buffalo burgers without apparent incident, although their only claim to fame was that they were dry, overcooked, and not all that tasty. We've had better ones in Nashville.

At this point I should probably mention that I suffer from IBS or some similar ailment. I am able to produce hot, squirty diarrhea at almost any moment for almost any reason. I am a notorious running joke in my immediate family. Restaurant foods, travel, anxiety, caffeine, dairy, the phase of the moon -- anything can set me off. Since we'd been traveling for two weeks and eating out at every meal, I'd been treating myself with "precautionary" doses of Imodium in an effort to avoid the eye-rolling resignation of my family in the face of yet another poop emergency.

Around dusk we passed from the barren landscape into a green and beautiful river valley that I never expected to see outside A Rive Runs Through It. Every half mile or so were turnouts filled with the vehicles of avid fly fisherman. We could see them through the pines practicing their magical art. (Fly fishing is one of the most impressive things I've even seen a human do.)

Unfortunately, my digestive system suddenly decided to ignore this glorious scene and engage in some sport of its own. I told my husband that I had to pee really badly, and to please find some place to stop ASAP. Twenty minutes later, we still hadn't passed a restroom. At this point I was holding my stomach, groaning in pain and anxiety that I was going to lose control in the car. I told my husband to pull off anywhere, that any tree would do... I've got to GO. But every turnout was occupied by those damned fly fishermen -- how would I ever find a place?

Finally my husband found a rutted dirt driveway on the mountainous side of the road and charged onto it, stopping about forty feet from the highway. There were only a few trees along the road, and I saw headlights of the interstate, but I didn't care. I leapt from the car, grabbing a box of tissue as I jumped behind a tall, spindly pine tree to balance on the muddy edge of a ravine. Itchy weeds tickled the backs of my legs. I imagined a giant rattlesnake plunging his fangs into my naked tail as I squatted down.

This thought set the stage for my natural defense mechanism to kick in. Immediately, what seemed like months' worth of accumulated waste started squirting out, as if my rump was a soft serve ice cream machine. The poo piled onto itself, coiling into a foul, brown snake. (Judging from the size of it, probably one of the larger boas.)

When it finally stopped, I had created a humongous cow-pie. Guiltily, I decided I'd have to leave the mess where it was and just hope some unfortunate rancher didn't discover my horrible surprise when he pulled into his driveway. I fantasized of a biologist finding my dried-up leavings hundreds of years from now and thinking that they were buffalo scat, and then being very amazed to find that it was a human who laid the giant patty.

After cleaning myself up with multiple tissues and scraping the mud off my shoes, I re-entered the Jeep to hear my husband and daughter laughing hysterically and arguing about who got to camcorder my distress.

A few days later, these jokers insisted on photographing me next to the Mammoth Restroom sign at Yellowstone. Feeling like a hostage, I cooperated, knowing that I depended on their goodwill to get me to a restroom (or tree) the next time I needed one.

That afternoon, we pulled over to take pictures of Yellowstone's magnificent buffalo herd. I was recording a magnificent bull when he lifted his tail and started pooping. Of course I continued to film him. I watch the video sometimes, feeling an odd kinship with the shaggy Shitting Bull and his giant-sized poo.

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Fudgepump (366) -- 08.13.2007

Pity the rattlesnake who even thought your ass was an attractive target: the poor beast would have died under a pile of soft-serve.
vir4go, you said "Guiltily, I decided I'd have to leave the mess where it was..." Why the guilt? I don't know of any requirements in outdoor dumping etiquette that would call for you to remove your download from the scene of the crime. Maybe you could've covered it a bit, but that's about it from my POV.

Mary Queen of Scats (387) -- 08.13.2007

Were you seriously wiping mud off your shoes...or were you wiping...er..."MUD" off your shoes?? Just curious.

And don't feel bad about the camcorder arguement. We used to argue over who got to tape my mom's head bobbing when she fell asleep in the car.

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No no, honey. Kitties don't sit on the potty.

Deja Poo (649) -- 08.13.2007

Kriminy! That was you who crapped by my Uncle's driveway? We thought a herd of Buffalo had gotten loose again.

Well, vir4go, when in Montana, do like the Montanans.
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Yo quiero Taco Bell.

pooologist (16) -- 08.13.2007

I would think that you would feel more guilt over making your family eat buffalo burgers from a truck stop in wyoming. Now, I was born and raised in Wyoming, I would NEVER, I repeat NEVER eat a buffalo burger from a truck stop in Wyoming...nor would I eat anything else cooked at one of those places. I am not being a snob or thinking that I am too good to eat at a truck stop..I have just seen the after effects of what a truck stop can do to people. just look at the bathrooms! yuck

Rot Bottom (26) -- 08.13.2007

You're a real Buffalo Soldier, vir4go.
On a side note, not all truck stops are bad. The trick is to go to the ones with four or more big rigs parked outside. Those guys have more info on who has good food and who will add a 4 hour delay to a load than anyone else. Michelin's can't give as good advice on the best on the road eating as a whole convoy of long-distance truckers.

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the Pirate Master Rot Bottom.

DungDaddy (1386) -- 08.13.2007

So, was the buffalo's poop bigger than yours?

Lame comment! -1 point

DRIP_DOWN_YO_LEG (21) -- 08.13.2007

that was a great story so i kinda got lost did someone record it or not? this kid in my town took a poo behind the library picked it up with empty fountain drink cups and set it on the railing it was gone within five minutes
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i have met many people that talk like asses but i have not met many asses that talk like people

The Thunderous ... (710) -- 08.13.2007

Not a good choice of burgers if ya ask me but folks isnt that the stuff that generates poop reports? I am always grateful for the food which brings these stories about and I thank you vir4go! It made me laugh!
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The Thunderous Crapper 63 Enjoying home toilet advantage since 2004!

pnuttycorn (260) -- 08.13.2007

Well, I can tell you that I have had a bison burger at Ted's (Turner) Montana grill, and the burger was excellent, the liquid mudslide that came out of me about 2 hrs. later wasn't. But it really was a tasty burger.

daphne (3668) -- 08.14.2007

Before the "white man" practically wiped the buffalo off the face of our continent during the 1800's, I wonder if any of them in the west and midwest ever had the same trouble some of you have had with a buffalo burger. Yippeekieyay turdwranglers!

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.....hugging bunnies since 1969
www.daphneszoo.com

Gaseous Glay (117) -- 08.15.2007

I admire that you are an adventurous eater and get on with your life even though your ass is so treacherous.

Rectal Badger (109) -- 08.15.2007

This is a really great story. But I have to say that I find it extremely disappointing how people (not just your family) think of stomach ailments as some sort of annoyance or joke. If it was something more "serious" they wouldn't act that way. I have asthma and some kind of stomach problem (diagnosed as IBS but I'm not so sure) and let me tell you - I find the stomach problem MUCH more heartwrenching than the asthma. Yet everyone acts like the latter is much worse and that the stomach problem really isn't a problem. It's thoroughly exasperating. Kudos to you, and keep your chin up!

vir4go (13) -- 08.17.2007

Thanks to all for the amusing comments. Fudgepump, I would not want to find that horrid mess in MY yard, would you? Heh. Hence the guilt. Queen Mary, it was actually just plain mud on my shoes, I'm happy to report. Four inches thick, though. I have asthma, too, Rectal Badger, and I agree that the stomach problem causes way more suffering. Love your handle!

Fudgepump (366) -- 08.17.2007

No doubt, vir4go: a pile in someone's yard would definitely be a different matter, especially soft-serve. I got the impression that the scene of the crime was pretty much in the boonies: hence my "drop-and-go" attitude.

Poopa Donna (16) -- 09.14.2007

Vir4Go-"Finally my husband found a rutted dirt driveway..." Rutted. Ha ha. Good choice of word. I am LMAO and I needed a good laugh. Well done! There are so many funny, descriptive things about it that imprints an unforgettable image in one's mind: like your description of your rump as a soft icecream machine, and how the poop piled onto itself and coiled around like a foul brown snake...and how someone might mistake it for buffalo scat. Thanks for a good laugh.

prarie doggin (2287) -- 09.23.2007

Over here mate, i think i've spotted one. Yes it is, its the american yellow spotted brown cobra! Look at that bugga, isnt he gorgeous. Looks like a big male.
He's all coiled up in the strike position, but i could say he is about 10 feet long. I'll try to get him to move. Just let me poke him with this stic...CRIKEY!!