goemaw.com
General Discussion => Essentially Flyertalk => Topic started by: The1BigWillie on November 04, 2013, 04:01:54 PM
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http://jalopnik.com/this-is-the-most-embarrassing-plane-pooping-story-ever-1456846301 (http://jalopnik.com/this-is-the-most-embarrassing-plane-pooping-story-ever-1456846301)
Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like it's percolating its way down into my lower intestine. I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn't more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulence. With each bounce, I have to fight my body, trying not to crap my pants. "Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five" I try and tell myself, each jostle a gamble I can't afford to lose. I signal to [the flight attendant] and she heads toward me.
"Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don't see a door?" I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my ass. She looks at me, bemused, and says, "Well, we don't really have one per se." She continues, "Technically, we have one, but it's really just for emergencies. Don't worry, we're landing shortly anyway."
"I'm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency," I manage to mutter through my grimace. I can see the fear in her face as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulence outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, "There. The toilet is there." For a brief instant, relief passes over my face. She continues, "If you pull away the leather cushion from that seat, it's under there. There's a small privacy screen that pulls up around it, but that's it." At this point, I was committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaft was set to blow.
I turn to look where she is pointing and I get the urge to cry. I do cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no difference. The "toilet" seat is occupied by the CFO, i.e. our rough ridin' client. Our rough ridin' female rough ridin' client!
Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or my exchange with the flight attendant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." That's all I can say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo impersonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Of course, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find out what the hell I'm doing.
Given my jovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almost everybody thinks I'm joking. She, however, knows right away that I am anything but and jumps up, moving quickly to where I had been sitting. I now had to remove the seat top – no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party, and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius.
I manage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. It had obviously never been used, ever. Why this moment of clarity came to me, I do not know. Perhaps it was the realization that I was going to take this toilet's virginity with a fury and savagery that was an abomination to its delicate craftsmanship and quality. I imagined some poor Italian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his once beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second as I was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava.
I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before I erupt. It's an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing but air and liquid spraying out in all directions – a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. I feel like I'm going to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." My apologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If that's not bad enough, I have one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level. I am sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" briefly comes to mind.
I literally could reach out with my left hand and rest it on the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. It was virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, that they weren't sharing a stall with some guy crapping his intestines out. Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry" is all the ashamed disembodied head can say…over and over again. Not that it mattered.P
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:buh-bye:
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A friend of mine (not Canadian) was on a plane when an old drunk guy got on the plane and looked like he was also sick. He stumbled by her to the back of the plane and there was an awful smell. It continued to get worse for the next couple of minutes. Then, one of the flight attendants walked the old drunk guy off the plane and poop was oozing out his pant leg. They had to lysol the plane's isle and the seat prior to take off.
When my friend is really pakn, this story takes 10 minutes to tell and leaves everyone in tears. Not so much with my bbsn ability.
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Would love to get the full ten minutes on this one. The twists, the turns, the nonstop hilarity. I mean for crying out loud the man shat himself! On a plane!! And it smelled!!! Like poop!!!! No moar I'm crying now. :thumbs: :katpak:
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i'm not reading this piece of crap until tighty mcbuttholes chimes in :don'tcare:
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My friend pooped in the woods while on a very long run on a trail. Some people saw him and thought he was masturbating and called the cops. No hilarity for him
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Hey you too cool for schoolers (unwashed masses) can pretend to be too mature for a good dookie story, but I think they are freaking funny. Keep them coming. The poopier the better.
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I had a friend once (female) who got done with her business in a public bathroom only to realize there was no toilet paper to be found. So looks under the stalls and sees no feet anywhere. She builds up some confidence and waddles to the next stall over. As soon as she opens the door an older lady walks in with a perfect view of her running to the next stall. My friend jumps into the next stall, locks the door, and the older lady is still just standing by the bathroom door. After a couple moments of silence my friend goes, "I'm sorry". The older lady then left the bathroom in silence.
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I had a friend once (female) who got done with her business in a public bathroom only to realize there was no toilet paper to be found. So looks under the stalls and sees no feet anywhere. She builds up some confidence and waddles to the next stall over. As soon as she opens the door an older lady walks in with a perfect view of her running to the next stall. My friend jumps into the next stall, locks the door, and the older lady is still just standing by the bathroom door. After a couple moments of silence my friend goes, "I'm sorry". The older lady then left the bathroom in silence.
ew why would a girl ever tell u that story
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Bach party in Cancun. Flight back buddy has the double dragon going on for half the flight. Shitting his brains out in a tiny cramped airplane bathroom while also projectile vomiting in a small trash can.
When he left the flight attendants gave him the death stare....There were 4 people waiting to use the bathroom by the time he finished, he hung his head in shame and just kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry".
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I had a friend once (female) who got done with her business in a public bathroom only to realize there was no toilet paper to be found. So looks under the stalls and sees no feet anywhere. She builds up some confidence and waddles to the next stall over. As soon as she opens the door an older lady walks in with a perfect view of her running to the next stall. My friend jumps into the next stall, locks the door, and the older lady is still just standing by the bathroom door. After a couple moments of silence my friend goes, "I'm sorry". The older lady then left the bathroom in silence.
ew why would a girl ever tell u that story
Girls are human beings too.
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I downed too many Boulevards at the casino one night and on the way back to town I wanted to unleash at the Qt before we headed out to the local hole.
I come in and they're cleaning the mens and the employee says to use the women's.
I go for it thinking Ill make this as quick as possible before a female shows up wanting to use the can.
Sure enough, mid squirt, I hear girly giggling and group chatter.
I finished quickly, opened the door, looked down, shouted a simple "sorry, they were cleaning" and bolted for the car.
I shoulda known, I shoulda known.
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Think I've told this story before. Basically was in Target and it was bad and heard a guy walk in and say OH WTF and gag and run out.
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I too have deuced in a Target..
By the pharmacy.
It was unisex and I was taking awhile and the lady waiting said "it's probably gonna stink, I'll just waddle up front" .
It was bad, but I didn't bolt for the car that time.
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Think I've told this story before. Basically was in Target and it was bad and heard a guy walk in and say OH WTF and gag and run out.
Did you snap a pic?
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Fun fact, I've dropped an inordinate amount of duces in the out of doors fashion. Most of them on customer property. Ahhh, nothing like the sun on your back and the breeze whooshing between your legs.
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Sister-in-law went into a target bathroom at the same time as a very large lady. They two stalls that they went into were right next to each other. The large lady groaned for a bit and then let it all out. She then said aloud, "Oh sweet Jesus, thank you Jesus!"
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i'm not reading this piece of crap until tighty mcbuttholes chimes in :don'tcare:
There's no crap like a, "risky-coffee-fart-crap" :shakesfist:
Sadly enough, I do have quite a few stories for this thread, unfortunately too many people actually know me for me to tell but I will leave one of a friend of mine.
The night is coming to an end as bars are turning their light's on and forcing everyone out of the doors in two-line fashion. My friend just got done throwing up some apple manhattans in the urinal of a great bar with the great name of Aggie Station. He realized on our way to the after party about 5 blocks down that he had missed his post-dinner meeting with the cold porcelain. Walking next to a very open yard he spots a tree over looking a white concrete bench and decides that this is as good as any to hold his meeting. Unfortunately for him and myself the only TP around happens to be pine needles so he promptly disagrees with my solution and decides to do a fell swoop of his whitey-tighties and be on his way walking like a true commando. That was until the swamp ass kicked in and we found a bicycle that he rode on two flat tires for 15 minutes around a parking lot before driving it directly through the doors of the party. He left that lump of processed food sitting directly on that white concrete bench, and the remnants he finally cleaned at the party using a make-shift bidet (the sink) and a face towel.
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Bach party in Cancun. Flight back buddy has the double dragon going on for half the flight. Shitting his brains out in a tiny cramped airplane bathroom while also projectile vomiting in a small trash can.
When he left the flight attendants gave him the death stare....There were 4 people waiting to use the bathroom by the time he finished, he hung his head in shame and just kept saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry".
Why have I never heard it called this :lol:
That's gold Jerry
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i'm not reading this piece of crap until tighty mcbuttholes chimes in :don'tcare:
There's no crap like a, "risky-coffee-fart-crap" :shakesfist:
Sadly enough, I do have quite a few stories for this thread, unfortunately too many people actually know me for me to tell but I will leave one of a friend of mine.
The night is coming to an end as bars are turning their light's on and forcing everyone out of the doors in two-line fashion. My friend just got done throwing up some apple manhattans in the urinal of a great bar with the great name of Aggie Station. He realized on our way to the after party about 5 blocks down that he had missed his post-dinner meeting with the cold porcelain. Walking next to a very open yard he spots a tree over looking a white concrete bench and decides that this is as good as any to hold his meeting. Unfortunately for him and myself the only TP around happens to be pine needles so he promptly disagrees with my solution and decides to do a fell swoop of his whitey-tighties and be on his way walking like a true commando. That was until the swamp ass kicked in and we found a bicycle that he rode on two flat tires for 15 minutes around a parking lot before driving it directly through the doors of the party. He left that lump of processed food sitting directly on that white concrete bench, and the remnants he finally cleaned at the party using a make-shift bidet (the sink) and a face towel.
You wouldn't have had a similar incident happen to you on a golf course in Oklahoma several years ago would you?
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i'm not reading this piece of crap until tighty mcbuttholes chimes in :don'tcare:
There's no crap like a, "risky-coffee-fart-crap" :shakesfist:
Sadly enough, I do have quite a few stories for this thread, unfortunately too many people actually know me for me to tell but I will leave one of a friend of mine.
The night is coming to an end as bars are turning their light's on and forcing everyone out of the doors in two-line fashion. My friend just got done throwing up some apple manhattans in the urinal of a great bar with the great name of Aggie Station. He realized on our way to the after party about 5 blocks down that he had missed his post-dinner meeting with the cold porcelain. Walking next to a very open yard he spots a tree over looking a white concrete bench and decides that this is as good as any to hold his meeting. Unfortunately for him and myself the only TP around happens to be pine needles so he promptly disagrees with my solution and decides to do a fell swoop of his whitey-tighties and be on his way walking like a true commando. That was until the swamp ass kicked in and we found a bicycle that he rode on two flat tires for 15 minutes around a parking lot before driving it directly through the doors of the party. He left that lump of processed food sitting directly on that white concrete bench, and the remnants he finally cleaned at the party using a make-shift bidet (the sink) and a face towel.
You wouldn't have had a similar incident happen to you while hunting quail on Fort Riley would you?
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i'm not reading this piece of crap until tighty mcbuttholes chimes in :don'tcare:
There's no crap like a, "risky-coffee-fart-crap" :shakesfist:
Sadly enough, I do have quite a few stories for this thread, unfortunately too many people actually know me for me to tell but I will leave one of a friend of mine.
The night is coming to an end as bars are turning their light's on and forcing everyone out of the doors in two-line fashion. My friend just got done throwing up some apple manhattans in the urinal of a great bar with the great name of Aggie Station. He realized on our way to the after party about 5 blocks down that he had missed his post-dinner meeting with the cold porcelain. Walking next to a very open yard he spots a tree over looking a white concrete bench and decides that this is as good as any to hold his meeting. Unfortunately for him and myself the only TP around happens to be pine needles so he promptly disagrees with my solution and decides to do a fell swoop of his whitey-tighties and be on his way walking like a true commando. That was until the swamp ass kicked in and we found a bicycle that he rode on two flat tires for 15 minutes around a parking lot before driving it directly through the doors of the party. He left that lump of processed food sitting directly on that white concrete bench, and the remnants he finally cleaned at the party using a make-shift bidet (the sink) and a face towel.
You wouldn't have had a similar incident happen to you while hunting quail on Fort Riley would you?
If this is the guy I think it is both incidents are highly likely.
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i'm not reading this piece of crap until tighty mcbuttholes chimes in :don'tcare:
There's no crap like a, "risky-coffee-fart-crap" :shakesfist:
Sadly enough, I do have quite a few stories for this thread, unfortunately too many people actually know me for me to tell but I will leave one of a friend of mine.
The night is coming to an end as bars are turning their light's on and forcing everyone out of the doors in two-line fashion. My friend just got done throwing up some apple manhattans in the urinal of a great bar with the great name of Aggie Station. He realized on our way to the after party about 5 blocks down that he had missed his post-dinner meeting with the cold porcelain. Walking next to a very open yard he spots a tree over looking a white concrete bench and decides that this is as good as any to hold his meeting. Unfortunately for him and myself the only TP around happens to be pine needles so he promptly disagrees with my solution and decides to do a fell swoop of his whitey-tighties and be on his way walking like a true commando. That was until the swamp ass kicked in and we found a bicycle that he rode on two flat tires for 15 minutes around a parking lot before driving it directly through the doors of the party. He left that lump of processed food sitting directly on that white concrete bench, and the remnants he finally cleaned at the party using a make-shift bidet (the sink) and a face towel.
You wouldn't have had a similar incident happen to you while hunting quail on Fort Riley would you?
If this is the guy I think it is both incidents are highly likely.
Nope, don't hunt and don't go on Fort Riley. But I do have lots of poop stories.
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Were you talking about your Canadian friend then?
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Were you talking about your Canadian friend then?
Nope we're all from KS, not born but definitely raised.
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Were you talking about your Canadian friend then?
Nope we're all from KS, not born but definitely raised.
You are not answering the question. It still could have been your Canadian friend. Search Canadian friend on this blog and you will understand.
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Were you talking about your Canadian friend then?
Nope we're all from KS, not born but definitely raised.
You are not answering the question. It still could have been your Canadian friend. Search Canadian friend on this blog and you will understand.
Ah I definitely missed that one. Not sure how it relates to the story but nope, I'd say he's more Irish than Canadian though.
EDIT: now that i've been informed, definitely was not my canadian friend hah