Don’t skip the warning
We just spent nearly five days sitting around our terminal in Irving, Texas, first waiting to get another exhaust leak fixed on our truck, and second, waiting for a load to get us home. We are supposed to be home today at noon, but that’s not going to happen. At least we have finally gotten a load that will get us to Missouri, though not close to home. It’s what always happens when it’s home time.
Anyway, when you spend this much time sitting in one place, there’s nothing to keep you from reflecting on the past. You might think this would lead to some great, deep thoughts. Not so much. And here’s a warning:
WARNING WARNING WARNING
If you are repelled, disgusted, appalled, or in any way offended by potty humor, then you’ll want to skip this post. If you still think it’s pretty funny when someone says the word “poot,” and that gaseous emissions have high humor value, then read on.
So one of the things about driving a truck that I didn’t much anticipate, was the amount of time I’d be spending in public toilets. We have a port-a-potty in the truck (you put chemicals in it to treat it, so it’s not as god-awful as it sounds), but public toilets are still an inevitable fact of life. A lot of things go on in various public toilets. Here are two of the more amusing ones that have happened to us.
We were at a truck stop in South Carolina. Hedon and I were in the restroom at the same time, different stalls, of course. I knew there was at least one other person in there besides us because I had seen their feet. Shortly after settling in, I began to hear moaning. Just kind of low at first. Not pleasure moaning, mind you. More like, “I was constipated but now I’m getting relief” kind of moaning.
I was pretty torn at this point. On the one hand, it was damned funny, but on the other, it was embarrassing. I mean, what the hell was Hedon thinking, carrying on like that in a public place. What must that other woman be thinking? The moaning kept getting louder and louder, though strangely melodic, interspersed with low exclamations like “umph” and “ohhh.”
By this time, I wanted to kill Hedon. Honestly. It was getting impossible to control my laughter. And there was no way I was leaving that restroom until that other woman had left first. It was just too embarrassing.
After what felt like a lifetime, I finally heard a big “Ahhhhh.” Then nothing. Thank god Hedon was finally done. I waited until I heard the other woman leave, then shot out of my stall, and ran straight into Hedon.
I immediately pounced, “Oh my god, I cannot believe you did that!”
Hedon’s mouth dropped open, “Me?! You! What the hell were you DOING in there?”
Then we both realized it at the same time. Neither of us had been the groaner. It had been the lone other woman in the bathroom. The one who had just escaped. Hands half-washed, we raced out the door (I mean, who wouldn’t want to see the gal?), but she was gone. Mutual apologies were left unsaid, yet understood.
The next story I should technically let Hedon tell, since it happened to her. But I don’t care. I’m going to tell it anyway because it’s my favorite.
Hedon had made a mad dash into the restroom at a truck stop. She had eaten some curry dish earlier in the day, and it now behooved her to make a rapid pit stop. She was grateful that all the stalls were empty and that she’d be alone, but she had no sooner than sat down, than the door to the restroom swung open.
Hedon, being a generally considerate person, tried to hold off on the inevitable. It wasn’t looking good for her, though, because the lady who had just entered, appeared to be elderly: shuffled walk, a glimpse of a flowery dress through the crack in the stall, a whiff of little old lady perfume. All signs pointed to this being an older lady.
The lady entered a stall and Hedon tried to wait her out. But it wasn’t going to happen. Hedon couldn’t stop it, though she reports that she was remarkably quiet about it. There wasn’t a thing she could do about the smell, unfortunately. I mean, we’re talking curry here. She felt bad for the older lady, but what could she do?
Pretty shortly, she heard the old lady say softly, “Oh my,” in her cute little old lady voice.
Then louder, “Oh my goodness!”
Hedon was feeling pretty guilty at this point, and was considering how she might go about apologizing to her, when the lady spoke again.
“Oh my!” the lady said. “Tee-hee tee-hee.”
Hedon thought that was a good sign. At least the lady thought it was funny.
“Hee-hee, hee-hee,” the lady continued to giggle, then, in a proud way, exclaimed, “What have I been eating!?”
This lady clearly had no idea Hedon was in the bathroom. Hedon, much to her credit, managed to remain quiet.
The lady kept giggling. “Tee-hee, tee-hee. Oh my goodness! I’d better get out of here.”
At which point, she quickly did just that.
Of course, I practically gave myself a hernia laughing over this one, especially when Hedon said the lady sounded real proud about it.
Lordy, I’m still laughing writing about it all this time later. I don’t think I’ll ever grow up.
LOL Gaseous
I think it’s criminal the way you are making fun of a person of advanced age who was clearly in the early stages of elderly dementia. It is not funny, and only highly immature people would think it is.
For that matter, you should not be laughing at people with constipation, either. Would you laugh at someone with cancer? Think about it.
You should be ashamed of yourself.
I dont like me no fancy public tolletrees. I do my bizness alone. I likes to find me a bush thats a ways away from the rest of the fambly. And I looks for a big bush, too, cause I don’t want my white hiney shinin thru the branches.
Hiney shining through branches. LOL
Laughs! Well, excuse me, but I thought this was pretty funny, but then, I grew up in a family that suffered from bad gas, and, with four brothers and a sister, sitting round the dinner table was never for the faint of heart, as far as friends staying over or visitors stopping by to join us at meals!
Why are people so embarrassed by bodily functions? Even the Queen needs to shit, you know!
I think I wet myself. Pretty sure…Yep. Thanks. I feel warm all over now.
Well, as a driver, I understand the bathroom issues. But I find tht being a woman driver, which is not the majority of the industry, our bathrooms are often not occupied. The best places to have privacy are for instance, at the Flying J where they have the restrooms by the restaurant, but the ones the general public doesn’t ever know about near the driver’s lounge. NO women are ever in those!
That said, this was very funny. My biggest pet peeve in public restrooms though is when there is an abundance of stalls and a person comes in and takes a stall RIGHT NEXT TO MINE!!! They couldn’t put a stall between us??? Isn’t that some sort of unwritten rule???
Glad you got out of Texas. Was it like, what, 115,000 degrees there? I feel for ya.
Salena,
Yes it is definitely a rule. I would go so far as to say only two people in the restroom should automatically mean one at each end of the row of stalls. How hard is that to understand? What is wrong with those women? Maybe I should start stopping at the J for all my Currie-related emergencies.
And, yes, Texas was as usual broiling as if they were already deep in the pits of hell. I’m sure I could smell brimstone at times.
Alex,
Good point about the Queen. The more you think about it the funnier that gets. I wonder if she has royal butt-wipers? If she does, I wonder if that’s considered a good job or a really really bad one? On the one hand you’re wiping a royal ass… on the other hand you’re wiping a royal ass.
I’ll tell you what I love… I love how Stace went out of her way to make it clear that I’m not ordinarily hideously stinky. Ahhhh. She loves me…
Hurrah!!
Thanks y’all. I’m glad I’m not alone in my continuing appreciation of potty humor.
Hedon you should have checked with me first, there most assuredly were royal derriere wipers in many countries. Geesh. I thought you were the history major in this relationship.
Stace,
Lord woman! I know they used to have royal butt-wipers back in the day. I’m just wondering if someone in 2008 actually wipes the Queen’s ass.
I hope somebody wipes the Queen’s ass even if it’s the Queen!!!
I read this out loud to my wife. I could hardly see through the tears. Amazing how something exceedingly odoriferous can make your eyes water.
Good point, Doug. I certainly hope someone is taking care of business there.
Can you imagine back in the day being royalty and all and taking a big old crap then sitting there waiting for someone to come wipe your ass? I wonder if his Highness stood up and bent over for easy access or if the unfortunate wiper-dude had to just reach his way around in the dark so to speak?
What a job… and to think some days I think my job sucks ass.