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Mar 10, 2019
9:53:58pm
BigD Coug All-American
Yesterday was going to be a great day.
For the past several weeks I’ve been working in Dallas while my family stays behind in Houston, with me traveling back and forth every weekend. This weekend while my High School age sons were on a choir trip to NYC, my wife decided to get a head start on Spring Break by renting a suite in a Residence Inn in Dallas and bringing up my 12-year old daughter so the three of us could hang out for the weekend. My daughter’s in her first year of junior high and has already taken a head start as a teenager. Lately she’s outgrown the “fun dad” stage and is starting to barely acknowledge me, so we thought of doing something fun to help us reconnect.

We decided to drive to the small town of Glen Rose, TX to visit Fossil Rim (recommended for all Texas peeps), which is a wildlife reserve that has “tame wild” animals, and you drive through it in your own car and toss the animals food pellets out your open car windows. Some of the animals you can interact with include ostriches, reindeer, many exotic species of antelope, giraffes, and zebras. Behind fences you can also observe rhinos and cheetahs. After a little while my daughter began to open up and have fun like she was a little girl again. We stopped at the gift shop & bought me a T-shirt and a pink hat for her.

Afterward we decided to explore Glen Rose and have lunch at a Subway restaurant, thereby violating my personal rule about eating fastfood in small towns. I ordered a 6-inch steak and cheese sandwich. I asked for Lite Sweet Onion sauce, going for the “Philly Cheesesteak” effect. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the worker put on a ton of the sauce, but for some reason forgot about it and scarfed it down as is.

About halfway through the 1.5 hour ride back to the Marriott in Dallas, I started to feel my “Subway Philly Cheesesteak” fighting back. Then about 20 minutes later I started to have to use the bathroom, but having a lot of experience in these matters I pushed back and pressed on, determined to hold it in until we got back to the hotel. After about 10 minutes of this it felt like contractions getting closer & closer together, and finally I had my wife check her phone for the nearest gas station. It was go time. There was one on the next exit, about half a mile off the freeway. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally saw in the distance the unmistakable sight of gas station pricing signs. But much to my horror, there was no convenience store! It was 6 or so gas pumps where only pay-at-the-pump was allowed.

Beyond frantic at this point I was prepared to relieve myself next to some bushes and stopped to get out of the car, when my wife saw a Port-a-Potty just beyond the bushes. Could I make it in time? I had no choice but to find out. I took about five or 6 careful steps and was only 4 or so away from the door, when I experienced an unmistakable sensation for the first time since walking the hills of Talcahuano, Chile as a missionary many years ago: total loss of sphincter control while completely clothed. Suddenly a warm liquid sensation, with all the consistency of a McDonald’s or In N Out shake dispenser, spread down both legs and even reached one sock.

After what seemed like an eternity, I opened the Port-a-Potty door, undid my pants and assessed the damage. The first thing I noticed was that the underwear were a complete loss and went down the hatch. I cleaned up as much as I could with my socks; they then followed my underwear down the hole. The hoodie I was wearing was thankfully somehow almost spotless. I was contemplating how I was going to put my pants back on when my wife, still laughing hysterically as she had been since we exited the freeway, appeared at the door. I told her of my plan to put my pants back on when she said she would look for some things in the car and be right back.

Blessed with the ability to think clearly during a crisis, she returned with a solution. She had my daughter’s pillowcase and blanket, and being determined to not have me put my pants back on, had me wipe myself down as much as I could with the pillowcase as possible. Then, down the hole it went. Then she had me take off my hoodie and wrap it around my waist to cover my backside. Then she had me wrap my daughter’s blanket around my waist. This is no ordinary blanket; it was knitted by my mother-in-law for my daughter’s baptism. It’s extra special because my MIL passed away just a few months before my daughter’s baptism, and we found it in her closet the day of the funeral.

Then my wife found a package she had prepared for our son in college. She took the box apart and spread it over the passenger seat for me to sit on. The souvenir Fossil Rim T-shirt covered my garment top, and we were on our way back to the hotel. The plan was to park near the indoor swimming pool and get a towel to wrap around my waist, then use a few other towels to wrap the clothes/blanket so they could go straight into the washing machine. Unfortunately there was some type of homeschool convention at the Marriott this weekend, and the pool was full of a million kids and parents, and there were no towels anywhere. My wife went to the front desk, and after waiting 15 minutes or so, finally reappeared with some warm, freshly washed towels. She opened my passenger side door, somehow ignored the stench, commented that my legs looked like they had been “spray tanned”, held up a towel to shield me from view, and handed me a towel to replace the hoodie and blanket around my waist, and we caravanned up the stairs to our suite on the 2nd floor where I immediately started a shower and she valiantly went back downstairs to start a load of wash. Miraculously after about two hours the blanket, hoodie, and pants were dry & all was back to normal.

Before we went out later for an early dinner (so we could have time to relax and watch the BYU vs San Diego game), my daughter, after a few hours of eyerolls and saying “so disgusting” over and over, told me thanks for ruining her blanket, and that instead of thinking about grandma, the blanket would make her remember me pooping. And she said that from now on she would call me “Poopy Pants”, a promise that has so far been fulfilled.
This message has been modified
Originally posted on Mar 10, 2019 at 9:53:58pm
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 10, 2019 at 9:55:17pm
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 10, 2019 at 10:09:44pm
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 10, 2019 at 10:12:39pm
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 10, 2019 at 10:33:32pm
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 13, 2019 at 11:56:36am
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 14, 2019 at 3:36:07pm
Message modified by BigD Coug on Mar 15, 2019 at 9:37:13pm
BigD Coug
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BigD Coug
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Dec 14, 2004
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Mar 28, 2024
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