So! Remember how I was supposed to go on a “romantic” desert getaway a few weeks ago? Well, I went on a food poisoning toilet extravaganza instead. I’m finally making up for it now and while I continue to tromp about the Wild Wild West I’m leaving you in the ever capable hands of Beth Teliho of Writer B is Me. Beth has been lurking around Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. since the early days and can always be counted on to share an equally bizarre or outrageous story in response. More recently, we’ve taken our relationship to the next level– she has a way of subscribing to my comments feed, which results in a night full of BZZ BZZ BZZZ notifications that cause her husband to literally “kick Aussa out of the bedroom.” Beth still invites me back in when he falls asleep though, but ssshhhh don’t tell him.
It was the first trip I’d ever been on with my boyfriend’s family. We drove to a little cabin off Lake Palestine in East Texas. There were six of us in total: myself and the boyfriend, his parents, and his sister and her husband.
The cabin was quaint. Rustic. Beautiful. And only had one bathroom.
Yep. A single bathroom just off the kitchen, which was excellent architectural planning. Who doesn’t want to listen to the sound of urine release whilst sipping iced tea?
After unpacking, we all went for a long hike along gorgeous, tree-lined trails. A few hours later we arrived back at the cabin, sweaty, tired, and hungry. My boyfriend’s parents started dinner while we each – one by one – used the restroom. I was last.
I walked in and was immediately distracted by the wall of mirrors surrounding the jet tub, so when I sat down, I didn’t even notice the seat had been left up.
I watched myself high-pitch-silent-dog-scream in the mirrors as the realization hit me.
I jumped up, holding my bladder with all my strength. I didn’t want to look at the seat. I shouldn’t have. But my eyes and some sick-twisted force compelled me. It was worse than I’d feared.
I had sat. Right. The fuck. In pee drippings and pubes.
Pardon me while I do a Bugs Bunny freak out.
I could hear the family in the kitchen. What I wanted to do was give myself a chemical bath Chernobyl-style until my skin bled. But I couldn’t. How would I explain a spontaneous bath at dinner time? I mean, what if they thought I’d crapped my pants or something?! No. I had to handle it another way.
I grabbed a washrag, lathered it with scalding hot water and an unhealthy amount of soap, and proceeded to wash every part of my body that’d come in contact with the seat. And then some. Thankfully, the running water drowned out the sound of my dry-heaves.
I left the bathroom a different person. A person with a murdered zest for cabin living and suspiciously clean thighs.
Nearly twenty years later, the haunting image of me hovering over the toilet mid-scream is still burned in my brain.
Has anything like this ever happened to you? What’s the last thing that’s made you high-pitch-dog-scream in horror? Do you have a funny story from a group trip?
Beth Teliho is a wife, mother of two lunatic boys, writer, and artist living in wouldntyouliketoknow, Texas. Writer B is Me is where she unleashes her candid, crazy, sometimes filthy, a little naughty, but-will-always-leave-you-with-a-smile stories. You’ve been warned.
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