Early last Saturday, I was on my way to St. Louis. I ate breakfast on the road at a Denny's. I had an omelet. A couple hours later, this bad-boy started to kick-in -- I mean, within minutes, my shit bladder was shouting out. I needed to release a pile of breakfast waste. Panic hit me.

You've got to understand: I'm the type of guy who can piss anywhere -- in a fish tank, in an apartment laundry room, or behind a locked outhouse. But when it comes to shitting, I need to take my dumps in the privacy of my residence. I mean, I shit at home and only at home. But here I am, driving down I-70 at eighty MPH, needing to seek out a porcelain convenience. Not only was my stomach rumbling, but my a-hole was at the point of minimal resistance.

I caught sight of a Meggy Dee's sign off the highway. I quickly exited, pulled into the parking lot, and made a beeline toward the men's room. I went into this spacious one-toilet rest room, locked the door behind me, and started to cut loose. That omelet hit the water with a splash.

I knew I still had more toxic discharge to cut loose, but nothing was coming out. It looked like I was ready for the long haul. But there I sat, no newspaper, no magazine, and no radio. Just sitting...

As I cut loose a blast, it was comforting to know that no one could hear me. But then came the dreaded knock.

Some guy says from behind the door asks, "Anyone in there?"

"Yeah, just a minute!" I shout out, knowing damn well I won't be out for twenty minutes PLUS! I mean, I don't want to spend an eternity on this crapper, but my bowels just ain't cooperating.

Around what seemed like twenty minutes later, another hard knock came. "You done in there or not?"

I was embarrassed, and didn't reply.

A couple minutes after that, there was more knocking, and then an authoritative voice: "Is everything all right in there?"

"Yes," I shout out.

Then the voice says, "I'm the manager. Some people need to share the washroom, please."

"Just hold on," I say, and hurriedly finish my business. I exit the room and sure enough, there are two guys waiting to get in. The first guy enters as I leave and I hear him shout out, "Whew -- who died in here?"

Sorry everybody, but when I go, I go. Embarrassed, I headed for the exit and didn't even buy the obligatory soft drink or apple pie as a bathroom payment.

I will go on record and say that I don't use public toilets unless it is absolutely necessary. I mean, I can piss anywhere -- in a garbage can, in a forest, behind a tent. But when it comes to dropping a shit load, I only go at home. But there *are* emergency nature calls. Times when it's either a stenchy set of drawers or cut loose that shit bladder on public porcelain. Meggy Dee's is by far my favorite non-private shitter. If you have to go outside the homestead, find a McD's -- they usually have a clean rest room.

It was Thursday night. I was feeling a rumble about twenty minutes into my road trip. And by a rumble, I mean my stomach was churning. I had just eaten a full "value" meal of some sorts at a Taco Bell. I didn't want to alarm my buddies, but I needed to stop and drain my intestines before they cut loose on their own.

I told the boys, Brad and Scorch, that I wanted to take a leak. No sense telling them I need to shit. They would only tease me.

"Just pull over the side of the road," they said.

"No," I replied, "I would like to get fries, too."

We found a Meggy Dee's real easy. I pulled in and headed for the head. Great -- no one was in the very clean john. I went into the stall and proceeded to unleash a gastrophic mass. It was quick and mighty.

I'm ready to do my business and hit the road. I went to reach for some toilet paper -- GONE! Here's this BIG plastic dispenser, capable of handling enough toilet paper for a family of four for a year, completely depleted! I couldn't believe it. I'm sitting there with a wet asshole and no way to wipe!

I figured I'd exit the stall, grab a paper towel, roughly wipe my poop chute, and be on my way. And so I left the stall, with my trousers down to my ankles -- but there was no towel dispenser by the sink. Just one of those electric hand dryers!

What was I gonna do? Stand there blowing hot air at my ass while this shit dries and cakes up in my crack?

Just then, someone walks through the door. There I am, standing with all my wonders hanging loose. This guy looks, sees me, and exits quickly.

At that point, I pull up my pants and exit quickly myself. I grab some napkins at the counter, head back to the john, hide behind the stall door, drop trou, and wipe my smelly ass.

It was a very rough wipe. But what are you going to do?

I am very mad at Meggy Dee's management for not providing toilet paper for the patrons of their restaurant. When I was employed at McD's, we took turns inspecting the crapper once per hour and checking to make sure there were towels, paper, and soap, and that everything was clean. One time I had to wipe up some puke. Yes, it was gross, but it was job. Obviously at this McD's, someone was slipping up.