Situational Martyrdom

Disclaimer:

The following story may be considered offensive, obscene, immature, intrinsically shitty, and/or tasteless. Frankly, I think it is entertaining and human, meaning identifiably embarrassing.

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I am a firm believer in "situational constipation." Consider the following situations:

Three seconds left. Your team is down by one. You are at the free throw line. You can win, tie, or lose. It is all on your shoulders.

You are standing in front of friends and family. You have just exchanged your vows. Two more words are left to be spoken.

You are scaling a mountain. The only thing keeping you on the mountain is a chain that is clenched beneath your white knuckles. If you fall, you die.

What do all three of these situations have in common? The answer: You are concentrating so intensely on the situation that the last thing you will do is poop your pants. Your mind overrides any digestive bickerings. Congratulations, you have reached the situationally constipated state.


Last weekend, Enid and I hiked Mount Myogi for the third time. And, much to my shagrin, my stomach was acting up as we were snaking our way along the ridgeline. The grumbles and pangs were intensifying with each and every step. I thought to myself, "Thankfully situational constipation will set in soon." Nope. Didn't happen.

Instead, I found myself dangling from a chain on the side of the ridgeline with my pants down. Hovering, basically in mid-air with my girlfriend encouraging (and discouraging) me from above. It wasn't my brightest moment, especially without the luxury of toilet paper (or leaves for that matter) by my side. Instead, I resorted to my handy Snoopy towel on my head.

I don't know why I just told you that story. My parents are shaking their heads right now. I just figure you will no longer have to ask me about my most embarrassing moment. And, if I can make any of your days any less shitty by telling you this story, then it was worth it.