Whether you are riding in a chevy, and your pants are kinda heavy, or your sliding in to first, and your pants begin to burst, or even if your climbing up a latter and you feel a little splatter....you know the end result.
Everyone is familiar with that feeling, the gurgling in your stomach, the sweat on your brow, the full body tingle and the panic that sets in when you realize - you gotta go - like NOW.
There is nothing worse than the realization on top of suddenly having to find an exit strategy, than realizing there is in fact no where go. I am not sure if it's a faulty stomach, or "shitty" timing, but I tend to have this happen far too often. When it does happen, it always seems to be a multiple of reasons for bad timing.
The first such event I can think back to, was the incident with the Christmas tree , and it didn't end well. I was young and hadn't experienced life enough yet to think of any quick decisions, and so ended up loosing my favourite pair of mickey mouse underwear.
Following this fiasco, and in the final year of grade school, winter and christmas trees was the last thing on my mind as I prepared for my final cross country race. Having not the best athletic skills (of the ones I have) I joined cross country because as long as I tried, I could be proud of finishing the race.
I was always very nervous before a race (I still cringe at the sound of an air horn) and so while waiting for the start ignored my rumbling stomach. As I started the race and most competitors ran off into the distance ahead of me, I felt the feeling and started to panic.
To this day, I am not sure how I managed to complete the race without shitting my pants, but ended up reaching the finish line. My parents were very supportive, and both stood with other parents at the finish and they all cheered as I came to the end (it was pity cheer, I was almost last place).
Knowing how much of a struggle it was for me to simply finish, my parents (and friends) watched confused as I raced passed the finish line, and kept going. I could then hear them all yelling at me stop, then laugh, as they watched me continue running right for the port-o-poty.
Eventually, the horror of finding yourself with no where to go - became known as "pulling an LB." It happened in the summer of 2008 in Northern Alberta. I was working as a Conservation Officer in a Provincial Park, and it was a hot sunny afternoon.
My partner Stan had a wicked sense of humour, a sick mind, and so overall we got along really well. He loved to talk to park guests, and sometimes he like to do it for a little bit too long.
I found myself standing next to him as we chatted to an elderly couple who had been visiting the park for years (not all enforcement, is enforcement). It was a lovely chat for the first ten minutes but as I stood there I could hear myself questioning if Stan was ever going to shut up.
As he rambled on, my stomach started to dance, and that wave came over me. We were a football field away from the patrol truck, and at the other end of the park to where the bathrooms were located.
My heart started to race, and I began to panic. Stan kept on talking away, and I was trying to think of something to say to wrap it up nicely and get us out of there. My mind searched for something, anything, but all I could think about was how not to shit my pants.
I didn't want to be in full uniform, representing the province of Alberta, and then crap in my own pants while making small talk with old people. I didn't want to be that officer, I didn't want to be that girl. I pleaded in my head for him to stop talking, and time seemed to stand still.
Then, a miracle; Stans work phone rang.
He stepped away to take his call, I thanked the couple and wished them well and began to walk towards the truck motioning to Stan to follow. As we reached the parking lot, he got off the phone and glared at me.
"What the heck I was talking to those people!" he was irritated.
"I have to go, like bad." I said as I motioned to the truck.
Stan laughed, and I tossed him the keys telling him he had to drive I was unable. As he started the vehicle he looked over and said "How about that Niagara Falls eh? All that running water"
I yelled back "It's not THAT kind of emergency!!"
Stan burst out laughing and hit the gas, ripping into the parking lot on the other side of the park in front of the bathrooms. I jumped out, and ran.
Photo finish. I felt total relief as I stepped out of the bathroom, only to see a line up of three women waiting (in a park where people rarely used the johns). I walked towards the truck and looked up to see Stan clapping his hands slowly and laughing.
He later dubbed it what it's now know as, which is pulling a me.
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