A Closed Highway
Everyone remembers the blizzard that ripped through the Midwest, right? Well, it just so happens that my wife and I were heading home from the Kansas City airport with one of our friends, "T", who was flying back from visiting family, when it was in full swing. Granted, we live outside of St. Louis, where there is another airport, but it had closed down way before the storm. My wife and I volunteered to get T so she and her hubby, "S", could watch their son play in district championship basketball.
We got in our four-wheel drive Tundra, because it felt like it was going to snow, and started off. We arrived in Kansas City with no problems three hours later. After we found T, we headed out and stopped for gas just outside of the city. We fueled up, grabbed snacks and drinks, and as we took off as the snow began to fall. So far on that day I had eaten a fast-food breakfast and lunch, so I knew I was going to pay for this fact later...
We were halfway to Kingdom City when the first gastric discomfort hit, so we stopped for a potty break. I entered the bathroom, sat down, farted several times and peed... but nothing else. I could feel it, but it just was not happening. I kept trying to go and managed to squeeze out a few turds, but nothing amazing or that would bring me relief came out. While I was in the bathroom, wife texted me, telling me it was really starting to snow. So, I peed a bit more, cleaned up and left. I got back in the truck and I gave my wife the "this is not good" look, and we took off. T has been best friends with us for years and knew I have bowel issues, so I wasn't worried about her seeing it.
We drove for awhile. My tummy was not happy, but we kept trucking. The snow let up a bit and we pulled off at a rest stop because I needed some relief, only to find it was being renovated. This meant I had to use a porta-potty. Great. It was 22 degrees outside and I had to shit... and my only option was to use a porta-potty. My wife and T quickly decided they didn't have to pee that badly, but I had no choice but to try. I went in, pulled my pants down just far enough to uncover my ass. I decided to hover to avoid feeling the cold seat, but as I progressed I ended up sitting. My IBS comes with constipation and diarrhea; this time I could go.
I sat there, literally freezing my ass and everything else off, getting nowhere fast. Just as something to start coming out my wife knocked. I opened the door and the wind caught it, and there I was, for the world to see. It was only T who could see, but still... She caught the door, closed it, and told me that highway 70 was shutting down in parts. Great, I thought, just great. So I wiped up, peed ('cause I can always do that), and we started out again.
We drove down the highway at 30 miles-per-hour and finally reached the outskirts of Saint Louis, which meant traffic stops. This was not good, as I was prairie-dogging by this point. While we sat in traffic, we heard over the radio that there would be an hour delay while road crews cleared the Highway 63 exchange. We could only use one lane due to the accident. I panicked and looked around, only to find there was nowhere to shit. "I have to drop this load and now," I told my wife.
While my truck is roomy it's not nearly as roomy as our Suburban, but I always have a bucket in the back of the truck; I do a lot of fishing and keep the fish in water. God bless my wife, because in this blizzard she got out of the truck and brought me the bucket. We placed it in the back seat and I thanked God for tinted dark windows. T moved up front, and I found a Wal-Mart bag and spread it over the bucket. I undid my jeans, apologizing to T what is about to happen, and I positioned myself, thinking, OK, this is it.
A little turd popped out... Some gas... And that's it... Really, all this discomfort and prairie-dogging, and nothing. As I was straining, trying to go, my wife gave me a sympathetic look. T looked back at me, too, and said, "That's it?" We continued to talk while I tried to go.
I finally started going, only to then realize I had to piss, and I couldn't do both at the same time -- the bucket was rather small. I panicked and told my wife to hand me a soda cup so I could piss, which she did, and wouldn't you know that my bladder decided that, "Nope, there's an audience, so you aren't going."
Well my ass didn't like that one bit.
Its amazing how they work together. I stopped shitting. By now we were down to 20 minutes of wait time, but it felt like I still had twenty minutes of good shitting in me. My wife and T got lost in a conversation, and I was finally able to finish. I spent a good five minutes of mud pie-making, which overflowed the Wal-Mart bag and filled the bucket. I cleaned up, placed the lid on the bucket, and sat there in relief.
Someone announced on the radio that the road crews had added another 20 minutes to the delay, which was not good, because the stench I made in the truck was horrid. By then we had been waiting 40 minutes, and had 40 more minutes left to wait.
Ten minutes into the rest of wait I had to go again. Ugh. I dropped trou, and just as I did liquid came squirting out of my ass. My wife asked,"You peeing?" About that time the smell and other noises hit. I was so embarrassed that we had windows down, even though we were in a blizzard. T's husband heard my explosion over the phone; it was that bad. To make matters worse I ended up doing that two more times before I was done.
Two hours later, after my wife and T both desecrated the bucket, too (I will save that story), we arrived home. I exploded four more times, but I was able to do so in the comfort of my own house. I slept well and woke up to 22 inches of snow. And then I buried the shit bucket.