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Friday, September 23, 2011

I Took a Really Big Smelly Shit in New York

If you know me, then you know that toilet humor is a source of constant amusement for me, so it was no surprise that a close friend of mine recently gifted me a notepad made entirely of poo – elephant poo, to be exact! As I had the notebook out this morning, I remembered two things. First, “I haven’t written a blog entry in a damn long while,” and second – well, the second thing was my recollecting an incident involving poo that make me chuckle, so I thought I’d share it with you today. Consider yourself blessed.

At the beginning of September I attended a week-long session at the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, New York. The circumstances surrounding my attending Omega for the week were interesting, to say the least, but that’s a story for another day. I wound up driving up to Omega a day early to get ahead of hurricane Irene, but as soon as I hit New Jersey it started pouring down rain which lasted for the remainder of the drive despite my efforts to have a relaxing commute. The stress of driving on the edge of a hurricane coupled with my body’s inborn reaction to bring all digestion to a halt during travel meant that it would be several days before I was, well, regular again.

Several days passed, and it turned out it was a good thing I arrived at Omega a day early, because the rain had flooded all routes in, causing many people to be a day or two late for their week-long sessions. I was in the CafĂ© when I felt a pang in my stomach. “It’s here,” I thought, and I rushed back to my cabin, eager to get rid of the bloat and be back to normal. I can honestly say that I was afraid I was going to flood the bathroom, but by the grace of god things went down like they were supposed to. I went back to my room, which was down the tiny hall from our cabin’s toilet, and I laid down on the bed, relieved and happy. And then I heard the cabin door open: it was the staff preparing the cabins for everyone else’s arrival.

The first person came in to clean the shower, hit by the fresh and pungent odor of meat-eater shit. “WHAT’S THAT SMELL?!”

Then the second person came in to check that we had clean linens. “OH MY GOD!!! I HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE!!!” (she proceeded to dry heave on the porch)

Then two MORE people came in to do god-knows-what. “It smells SO BAD in here!!!” “OH MY GOD! I HAVE TO LEAVE!”

At this point I literally had to cover my mouth with my hands to keep from laughing out loud, as they didn’t realize anyone was in the cabin.

I wound up recounting this story several days later to some people from my class, only I was standing directly outside Bobby McFerrin’s Circle Songs class (PS: the fart is the ultimate circle song) being REALLY LOUD (who, me?).

Looking back on it, there is no moral to this story, no witty ending. Just me being me: loud, embarrassing, and constantly amused by poop. If this isn't a portrait of the ordinary, then I don't know what is!

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