Somewhere around the year 1997, I attended a hockey game at the Cincinnati Gardens. I've always been a bashful sort of crapper, trying to avoid it at all costs... until this day when I had to face my fears head-on. It was in January and it was a near sell-out game -- about eight thousand fans in the ten thousand-seat building. I was merrily watching the intermission antics on the ice when I started percolating.

"Dammit," I thought. "Shit pains."

The percolating and shit pains did not last long, however. No, much to my dismay, the next thing I felt was an extremely urgent H.S.F. -- Hot Sphincter Flash. I had to shit and I had to shit NOW! I scurried to the closest men's room, which was quite crowded since it was an intermission.

This particular men's room was near the kiddy zone of the arena, so it was filled with fathers and their children. I entered, and there it was -- one open stall in a row of about twelve. I could tell it was available because it did not have a door! Oh, geez, can't a guy get a break? Not me.

The rumbling was severe. The turtlehead had come out for a peek twice. But being nearly about to shit my pants in front of a huge crowd kept things in perspective for me -- better to shit openly in a room of a few dozen than to walk through the crowd with a dookie in my drawers. Still, I had a hard time overcoming my phobia of public pooping.

My anxiety got a little worse when I realized the toilet seat was spring-loaded to keep it up so people don't piss on it. That's fine -- but I still tried to put a layer of toilet paper on it while holding it down with my knee (with my pants around my knees). After covering the seat with paper, I turned to sit while pinching as hard as I could to keep the turtlehead in his shell.

Dammit again! As I tried to turn around, the spring-loaded seat flipped up and threw my carefully placed paper barrier on the floor!

All the pinching was seemingly holding the impending explosion at bay, so I decided to try and paper the seat again. I held the seat down with my knee and papered it. But once again, as I tried to turn around, the seat flipped up and threw a second pile of paper on the floor behind the commode.

Too late now -- the turtlehead was out and not going back in! As quickly as I could, I turned around, shoved the dirty seat down, took my seat and KAPOW!!! I shit two whole turtles' worth in one loud, crackling, obnoxious expulsion. Children screamed and held on to their daddies' legs. There was no secret who was responsible for the methane malfunction. What total embarrassment!

I think I needed therapy for three years; but I'm finally over it. I tell you what -- I've completely lost my fear of crapping in a crowd. Though I do have to admit that I still get a shiver when I go to the Cincinnati Gardens.

-- Mike B.