...my mom sent me off to summer camp for a week with a bunch of rich kids I played hockey with. It was in Lutsen, Mn, which may or may not really exist. My fear of defecating in public hadn't developed into the crippling phobia that it is today but using any toilet away from home was still a pretty daunting experience. Side note, being poop shy and having IBS is the reason that the cause of death section on my autopsy report has already been filled in with "Butt Catastophe". Anyway, pooping at grandma's house or, god forbid, at school was one thing but shitting into a haunted outhouse in the middle of the snake infested forest in fucking Lutsen was a whole different animal. Actually, I can't really attest to that. Wanna know why? Because in the eight days I was at camp, I didn't shit. Not once. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I didn't have to. I had to take a duraflame sized crap the first day I got there but as soon as I saw the nazi death chamber they called a bathroom the game was over. An 11 year old boy is already a fully operational diarrhea factory but when you factor in a week long diet of sloppy joe's, jolly ranchers and gatorade that shit factory turns into a full on weapons grade nerve gas warehouse staffed by al qaeda's all star team. The first few days I was able to keep the PSI levels down by farting behind the camp chapel. By mid week though, my butthole was as plugged up as John Goodman's toilet on Thanksgiving. It might as well have had a manhole cover over it. No air was getting out without the entire dam bursting. The two things I learned from this experience were that the pain threshold of a pre pubescent young boy is a lot higher than you would think. The other is that bug spray makes a shitty deoderizer. It might be of some use if you just rocked a typical fart but when you're ass is clogged up with a week's worth of junk food, you are the fart. You're a walking, talking, living, breathing fart. And no amount of mosquito repellent can disguise that. Maybe that's why people stopped talking to me after about the fourth day.
When my parent's finally picked me up that saturday they took me to Champp's for a welcome home dinner. I ordered a cheeseburger and promptly pooped my pants right there in the booth. I excused myself to the bathroom where I emptied the contents of my pants, which used to be the contents of my butthole, into the toilet and swiftly through my underwear in the trash. Unfortunately it wasn't the last time in my life that a camping trip ended with me scooping poop out of my pants into the toilet at a suburban sport's bar. I should probably learn how to crap like an adult at some point in my life.
When my parent's finally picked me up that saturday they took me to Champp's for a welcome home dinner. I ordered a cheeseburger and promptly pooped my pants right there in the booth. I excused myself to the bathroom where I emptied the contents of my pants, which used to be the contents of my butthole, into the toilet and swiftly through my underwear in the trash. Unfortunately it wasn't the last time in my life that a camping trip ended with me scooping poop out of my pants into the toilet at a suburban sport's bar. I should probably learn how to crap like an adult at some point in my life.
