November 07, 2015

Life. Sometimes Crappy.

Disclosure: This post is neither inspiring nor reverent, so I invite you to stop reading now (especially since you may lose what small amount of respect you have for me)

Life is somewhat messy at times. Today was one of those days for me. Ok, that is a bit of an exaggeration, it was really only about 30 messy minutes, but it made a lasting impression. Every small act, that seemed in consequential at the time, added up to culminate in one HUGE predicament.

Lady Hiva had a wedding to attend with her mum so Tau’aho and I went to eat at a fast food joint and then I took him to the West side of Oahu to see the turtles and the sunset. I wanted to get some good photos. We made our drive around the North Shore and talked about life. He is a fun little guy and loves to tell me about the colors and shapes he sees and the sounds he hears.

We made it to “Turtle Beach” (I am not sure the real name, but call it that because there seems to always be sea turtles there.) Tau’aho was so excited to see ‘Crush.’ We found a parking spot among all the people preparing for the sunset and walked to the first beach. I started to get a stomach ache and heavy gurgling. There were no turtles on the south end of the beach so we walked to the north end. As we walked I carried Tau’aho because this morning he threw away his slippers and before we realized where they were the maid had taken out the rubbish so he was barefoot.

The farther we walked the more my stomach ached and rumbled. I knew I needed to find a bathroom---quick! But my Lucky Dragon was going on and on about seeing Crush. By the time we made it to the other end of the beach I realized I was concentrating so hard my stomach and NOT farting because I was afraid of what would come out that I was not listening to his happy chatter. I was actually a bit relieved to see that there were no turtles there and immediately started back to the car. I was half running to make it fast, but half not running because too much movement was short to cause gas—and whatever comes with it—out.

I was plotting where I could go to the bathroom. Lady’s parents live about ten miles from where I am. But on a two-lane road full of sunset watching tourists I knew I was not going to make it there. So which beaches have public bathrooms? A few but still a drive away. Do I dare knock on someone’s door to use the bathroom? I visualized me saying, “Hello, I really am going to explode can you watch my kid while I soil your bathroom?” Best bet is to make it to the beach bathroom. I would NEVER go in these bathrooms normally, but right now it was as if I was aiming for the Olympic gold medal.

I rushed him into the car and slowly sat down to not cramp my style too much. At this point the need to “go” was so acute it actually hurt. We drove a few feet and I really didn’t dare breathe at this point and kept wiggling to ‘hold it in.’

All I could think is, “I’m not going to make it. I’m not going to make it!” Just about then I saw some roadside Porta-potties. Now, I said before I would not use the public beach bathrooms normally, that is nowhere near the disdain I have for porta-potties. But again, at that moment, they were an answer to prayer. I pulled over quickly and by the time I did I was a few yards from the dirty blue boxes. I ran around the car to grab Tau’aho out of the back and luckily had bought some Kleenexes at the grocery store early to wipe his nose because I grab a few as I was dancing the “I have to go dance” just in case there was not any TP. Tau’aho came but was trying to dive back in for his toys. But I did not have time for that.  I started to run across the road, again trying not to run too fast or too slow. It was kind of a tippy toe-keep-it-in kind of a run. At this point I was thinking, “Oh, no, it is coming! It’s coming!”

About that time a nice old man walked by and said “Aloha!” With affection, I squeaked out a response, worried if I used too many stomach muscles to talk or breathe I would squirt. The porta-potty is getting closer now, but sure enough a fart slipped out and a clenched to stop it but that just made more juice fart come out…”Oh no! I just crapped my own pants!” “Stop!” “Stop!”

But the more I tried to stop, the more shooting happened. Then I had the horrible thought that what if I made it to the porta-potty and it is locked because it is not for public use! No time to think now, hopefully there are tall bushes nearby then. We arrived and I slammed the door open put Tau’aho down in and shut us in. I could not leave him outside that close to the road and with strangers, but here we were in a small filthy box with him and no shoes and I am squirting everywhere. The smell was horrible. I was backed up to the door and in between my gulping for air of relief I would tell him “Don’t touch anything!” The noises, heat and smell must have been horrendous.

At one point he said, “Daddy, what happened?” What do you say to your two year old who is wedged between your knees as you have one of the most despicable experiences of your life and he is forced to watch?

About then a car alarm went off, “Crap! (pun intended) Did I lock the car?” I had no idea. But at this point I could not worry. I could not get into my pockets because all concentration was on not making more of a mess than I already was and if I lifted my pants everything from the pockets may end up in the nasty hole.

Finally all done, I carefully took off all the soiled layers to leave in the wretched place. I was never so glad for fresh air. When we stepped out I realized that my right slipper and ankle was covered in an unknown slimy brown substance! ARE YOU KIDDING???!!! I hope it was just a mud from a puddle I unknowingly ran through on my way from the car, but I could not be sure. I took it off, picked up Tau’aho and ran to the beach. In between the laughing groups and sighing couples enjoying the sunset I frantically washed my feet hands and then Tau’aho’s feet and hands. Secretly hoping there was some sort of antibacterial element to sea water and the exfoliation of sand.

 Stood up and started to laugh—at this point what else do you do? You crapped in your pants (and quite possibly on your shoes and feet), trapped your kid with you in a porta-potty, and have no soap. I took a photo of the sunset and we made a mad dash for the nearest grocery store for hand sanitizer.

Poor Tau’aho, of all of this experience the most traumatic was me curtly telling him to not touch his face, his food or anything else. The poor kid held out his hands like a mummy walking unsure as to why he could not use them. I looked back and saw he did not like the sand residue on his arms and since I told him to use his hands he went to lick off the sand! “NO!!!! Don’t lick it!~”

I poured sanitizer all over his arms, feet and legs. Then did the same to mine. I wished I could take a bath in sanitizer at this point. We will do the sunset photos another day...

Now the crisis is complete I can laugh about it. Lady Hiva called me and asked where we were. I told her we went to see the turtles and when I told her there weren’t any she wanted to know why we were coming home so late. As I recounted to story to her I could not even get through parts of it without laughing to the point I could not talk. I hope it brought you some laughs too, because I am sure I am not the only one with a story like this! And, hey, looking on the bright side, my gag reflexes never kicked in through this entire experience. (I think I was WAY TO horrified at what was happening). So I am happy to report I did not throw up. Not even once!

1 comment:

  1. Dustin this is so weird, I'm in Vegas this weekend and last night had a very similar experience! No portapotty thank goodness! Funny story man!