The Race

I love Indian food.  I do.  It ranks almost up there with Mexican food.  In fact, I have an Indian Bizaar rewards card on my key chain right along with Kroger and Tom Thumb.  So when John suggested Roti Grill for lunch, I was all on board.  This would be perfect and relaxing before tackling the American Girl store for the $30 Dalmatian puppy plus magnetic bone Helen has had on the top of her Christmas wish list since October.  I am a hideous procrastinator.  That is why 3 days before Christmas, I was sitting in a very, very long line with other procrastinators, inching my way towards the galleria.  But, unlike the other procrastinators, I had gone overboard with the coffee.  Then I had sausage and eggs.  Top that with Indian food and you have intestines that are set to rebel.  Let me tell you, when my intestines declare Viva Revolution! the vitamix has nothing on them.  They go from 0 to liquefy in about 60 seconds. 

I sit in the long line of cars weighing my options.  I can bail and try to make it North to my nice comfy bathroom.  The worst that can happen is I shit myself before I get there.  I can stay in line, park and try to make it to a restroom.  Again, the worst thing that can happen is a shit myself in the mall trying to get to a toilet.  I decide to stay in line.  What can I say, I had already been in this stupid line so long I felt compelled to chance an explosion of epic proportions.  It doesn’t help that there is an asshole who doesn’t follow the rule of every other car merging into one line as directed by the two police who have just positioned us to do this.  I was very tempted to leap from my car and explode right on her hood.   Once I am done cursing into my steering wheel about the spirit of Christmas rudeness I spend the next several minutes trying to focus on my breathing.  Okay, Jeanette, DO NOT listen to that gurgling noise, listen to your breath.   Focus on this moment that you are not shitting on yourself; focus on your sphincter muscle.  It is a strong and mighty sphincter.  It can hold off the revolt until a parking spot and lady’s room are found.  I am not sure if my Meditation coach would be pleased about this scene but when you are sweating in your car with men in red jumpsuits and santa hats directing you through a parking garage you will try anything.

Somehow the universe smiled on me.  I parked at level 2 right across from the walkway straight into Belk’s.  I have never been in a Belk’s before but I love them.  I love them so very much for putting a restroom to the right as you enter from the parking garage walkway.  Sweet merciful heavens there was only one other human in the restroom and they were at the end dealing with a kid.  I flew into the stall because the law of impending dookie had struck.  This is a scientifically proven phenomenon.   Once your body realizes you are within close proximity to a toilet, it forgets to man the fort, the flood is going to come so it is a race.  Thank God I won the race.  I am not proud to admit this but I flushed that toilet about 30 times.  Yes it is wasteful but it is the only protection other people have from the violent butt grenades erupting in the stall next to them.  No one wants to hear or smell that.  No one. 

20 minutes later I was able to slink out of the restroom alone.  I guess everyone in Dallas was in the parking lot or as I was about to discover, The American Girl store.  2014 taught me a very important lesson.  Three days before Christmas, no spicy food or coffee until after I have parked the car.