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#11
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Here is my [censored] story about squatting, sorry if long:
So I'm in China in the city of Xian with my tour group. We find out we have an early flight to south-eastern China the next morning, so the initial idea of going to a Chinese night club seems out of the question. Nobody raises their hand at dinner to attend and the group seems to decide to pass on the festivities. However, after watching the first-round England-whoevertheyplayed game in our hotel lobby, we start pounding a few beers and enjoying ourselves. Our guide asks if we want to "just check out" the night club. Most people duck out to their rooms, but two of the girls leave to go to the club early (without any beers in their system) with our tour group leader. After the game, one English guy and I decide to meet up with them, already tipsy and excited after the English victory. Long story short, we consume a [censored]-load of beer at some uniquely Chinese nightclubs at the suggestion of our tour-guide. Turns out these bars had "deals", where consuming a [censored]-load of beer was much more economical than only downing one or two drinks. So we partake and enjoy ourselves, becoming aggressively drunk and disoriented while dancing on a strobe-light, sardine-esque jam-packed dance floor. Eventually we head to the hotel and I collapse on the bed and fall asleep. Prior to partaking on our adventure, my English friend had recommended not "drinking and flying". His words would prove to be prophetic. So we take off on our domestic flight, and here I am sandwiched, as a big guy, being two moderately-sized individuals in a plane. Having recieved a cheap and awesome massage the day previous, my neck is annoyingly sore and it hurts to rest my head fully back against the head rest. There is no comfortable position. The beer starts boiling in my stomach. I can't sleep. I start having the feeling that I have to go to the bathroom to either puke or [censored] about 20 minutes prior to landing, but I decide to hold it in. Bad decision. The buckle your seatbelt sign lights up and I'm stuck there in misery, faltering under the Chinese alcohol and claustrophobic conditions. I feel the need to crap swelling up. I hold it in. We finally land and I swoop up my stuff and head out the door, clamoring for the nearest bathroom. I find one and relax. I made it. But that wasn't the end of it. Much to my dismay, the first bathroom off the plane was of Chinese style - summated, a hole in the ground, and a hole that required you to bring your own toilet paper. To that point I made the pledge to avoid these chasms of bodily fluids and stick to touristy and Western toilets. Unfortunately, I was stuck. I had to take a [censored] in a hole. To make matters worse, I toiled through my backpack, expecting to find toilet paper that I thought I had brought with me for a situation such as this. No go. I whimper, half deciding to just take one and wipe at the next tourist-toilet I could find. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have my technique down pat. I squat down and release the package for delivery. But I miss the mark. Turns out I didn't squat enough, and suddenly visions of Chinese through the countryside come back to me, Chinese squatting past 90 degrees, gambling, relaxing and smoking along cities and countrysides alike. That was why they had that much range. I, unfortunately, did not. My load exploded on the back of my shorts, and I was officially [censored]. I had just [censored] my shorts. Or on my shorts. Or [censored] my pants. However you define it. Scrambling, I tried to clean it up with anything I could muster. I managed to do a decent job, but given a decent lookover by any interested parties and they could surely deduce what in fact the mark was. I gathered my wits and then partook in the SECOND worst part of this situation: no toilet paper. I gathered everything I had in my backpack that could function as tissue, socks, trip itineraries, etc, and put it to work. That was the most expensive wipe I had ever had. I threw all of my possessions down the hole and took off, pulling my shirt as far as it could go over my khaki shorts in an effort to cover up and still reach my waiting tour group as fast as I could. And there they were at the baggage claim, waiting me with unpleasant looks on their faces. At this point I already had a reputation for making the group wait, having already gotten lost once at Tiananmen Square in Beijing. They asked if I was OK and I nodded, not saying what I had done or been. But they must have known. Using careful positioning and bob and weave maneuvers through the crowd, I (hopefully) managed to cover up my accident and pick up my luggage to help accomplish my next goal - changing shorts. Luckily for me, I had a pair of shorts that were a similar color, and given a lack of unobservant passengers, nobody would notice the changeup I had made. I tapped two of my Australian friends at the back of the group on the shoulder and told them I had to go to the bathroom quickly, this time at another toilet near the baggage claim. They gave a nod with a curious and amused smirk on their faces - I didn't care and shot towards the bathroom to change. And as luck would have it, this bathroom had the two things the other had not - American toilets and toilet paper. It figured. I changed and took off back towards the group, again waiting with bemused looks, most notable of which being the normally laid back tour group leader. But I was home free. I had shoved my shorts deep into my bag and wiped cleanly. We took off onto the bus and I was done with it -- luckily the incident never came up again and nobody seemed to be able to conclude, or care -- about what had happened, as they all remained friends and as personable as before. It was a [censored] day, sure enough, and it instilled in me the valuable lesson that I will now never forget -- don't drink and fly. |
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#12
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Also don't drink and then get on a boat, or you'll be filling the sea with vomit. God i wish the internet would start working better here, im [censored] dying here unable to play.
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