OK I have a story to tell. It is time to come clean. This is a from a few years ago, but I am only now beginning to heal the emotional scars.
So I do a loop around Dallas on my bike. It's maybe 40 miles. I am on a road bike, Spandexed out, I have to take some actual surface streets in addition to bike paths, including Hillcrest north of Highway 12. I go through White Rock Lake, down to the AAC, and then up the Katy Trail and past SMU.
The last bit is the relevant part. Highland park is residential, mostly. So I am going north on Hillcrest past SMU, having a grand old time. Feeling great. And I feel and hear The Gurgle. Pressure. I know there are only private homes. Rich people who do NOT want to talk to me. My gut told me I was fighting a lost cause. Fecal urgency soon turned into a lack of fecal urgency. And that's when I discovered how lucky I was.
Now the key here is my outfit. I have boxer briefs, of the polyester variety. On top of that, spandex. Two layers. It formed a container of sorts. If you can imagine. Biker shorts are tight on the legs, so the don't slide while riding. All black, so I'm good there. After proceeding a bit, I was confident that I was watertight. Had to be at least a liter of fluid like substance back there.
This of course created a small difficulty, in that there is a seat on the bike. I could not imagine that squishy feeling of sitting on it. Worried I might lose containment, I refused to sit , I stood on the pedals the whole way home. Like the rape scene in 300, I did not enjoy it, and it was not over quickly. I had like five miles to go with a couple major intersections.
The piece de resistance of the entire glorious event was the shower scene. You really haven't lived until you enter a room with a liter of poop in your undies. After rushing past others so they would hopefully not find out what happened (I did not make eye contact), I walked fully clothed into the shower. It was fairly emotional. I do not like poop, it makes me dry heave. But there was waffle stomping that day, believe me. It was like something out of The Shining. The shower was of the straight down sort, so the pieces got all spread out and I had to really focus on getting all the stray bits. There wasn't merely a crime, there was also the coverup.
Something like that really changes your perspective on things. I have other stories that shall not be told.