Wild Deuces

One day while enjoying a Rockies/Mariners game with my wife and our friend Kiko, I was eating extremely overpriced junk food like it was going out of style. After my last bite of hot dog, we were placed under a tornado warning and ultimately the game was canceled. There wasn't only a tornado forming over downtown Denver, there was also one brewing in my stomach. We had taken the lightrail downtown, so I had at least a 45 minute trip home and that would be after waiting for who knows how long for the train to leave. I ran into a restaurant in Lodo where the bathrooms are in the basement. I told Dorene to wait for me while I tended to my business. After a violent deuce and wonderful relief, a string of people started coming into the bathroom. This made my escape impossible. I can't allow people to see me coming out of a bathroom stall. Whenever the bathroom would get down to one person, another person would come in. I was having a conversation via text message with the Wife alerting her to the situation...as if she didn't already know...we've been married for a while and she knows my weaknesses. She proceeded to order drinks until I finally reappeared 1.5 hours later. It was hard to get up because my legs had fallen asleep, but I fought through the tingling pain and made a mad dash out the door and up the stairs. This was the last time I had an embarrassing deuce, but it wasn't the first.

I've had a condition that has plagued me since I was about 6 or 7 years old. I believe it started during a family trip to an amusement park named Magic Springs in Hot Springs, AR. After a long day at the park, my family stopped at Mc Donald's so I could use the bathroom. After eating junk food all day, I had a Trump sized deposit that I was going to leave. There were already people in the bathroom, but it didn't bother me. I strolled into a stall and proceeded to do my business. I think this is where my problem began. I was having difficulty making my deposit and I remember straining and grunting. One of the people in the bathroom said "it's okay, let it out little man...let it out". I knew that this was supposed to be a private moment, but I think it trained me to believe that I would be graded every time I did it in public.

Fast forward to a day in 3rd grade. I remember having to Number 2, but I couldn't bring myself to do it at school. I went to the office to call my Dad to tell him that my stomach hurt and I needed to come home. This was the first time, but it wasn't the last time. During my elementary school career, I probably missed more classes than Blue Chip Division 1 athletes.

After learning to live with Deuce Induced Truancy, life was good...until boot camp. There were many a midnight rendezvous with the immaculately clean receptacles. Because of boot camp, I figured that my problem was a cultural issue. All of my White ship mates didn't have a problem dropping deuces with an audience. They also didn't have a problem having conversations while doing it. I never remember seeing any of my Black ship mates going into a stall.

While living in Hawaii, this cultural angle gained steam because my best friend Tony, Black guy, told me how he would go to the last stall when no one was in the bathroom and if someone entered, he raised his feet so people wouldn't know he was there. To me, the evidence was conclusive, Black people couldn't Number 2 in public. This fact was almost a deal breaker between my wife and me. While on one of our first dates, we were enjoying a movie at her apartment. In the middle of the movie, the tornado started churning again. I told her I had to go home to feed my turtle, but 5 minutes after leaving her apartment, my phobia got the best of me. It was the nastiest 30 minute drive home ever.

I've been living with this problem for a long time and thought there was nothing I could do because it was a Black thing. Recently, 2 days ago at The Colorado Rapids Happy Hour, I learned that some White people have the same fears. My friend Chris (last name withheld) told me that he has an extra pair of shoes at work so when he uses the bathroom, no one can identify him by his footwear.

I've come to the conclusion that a lot of people with outgoing personalities may have a fear of being seen in compromising positions. I know for a fact that Chris, Tony, and I make fun of people all the time. It's not malicious bullying type of stuff, just having fun at the expense of someone else. What if one of these people kicked in the door at one of your most vulnerable moments? That would be devastating...remember "it's okay, let it out little man...let it out"?...devastating.