Saturday, May 14, 2005

embarrassing story #1

I was 13 years old. First time on a trip w/o my parents. First time to fly. First time out of the country. I was in Managua Nicaragua, with a youth group, helping to build an orphanage/feeding center.

I was the youngest person on the trip. I was easily embarrassed and didn’t want to do anything to make any of the older teenagers think I was just a silly kid.

We stayed with the sweetest family ever. They had 2 huge bedrooms filled with bunk beds. Just outside of the bedrooms was a single bathroom. The walls that surrounded the bathroom didn’t go up to the ceiling, so you could hear (and smell) everything that occurred in the bathroom.

I was extremely hesitant to use the bathroom for anything other than showering and #1. I thought that I could suppress the urge to go #2 for an entire week.

Our meals all week were so yummy, and we seemed to have beans at least once a day. Not a great idea to eat beans every day if you are trying to constipate yourself.

I made it 6 days. It was our last night and I was outside playing with all the kids. We were saying our goodbyes, taking pictures, playing games. I had a terrible rumbling feeling in my stomach. I thought that it was just gas. I just needed to relieve a little pressure. So I walked away from the crowd a little, because I didn’t want to humiliate myself by farting in front of any of them…

But that wasn’t the thing to be worried about…

As I squatted to a sitting position, I felt immediate relief on my stomach. I thought I was passing gas…but there was a little more being passed than gas…

I was mortified. I jumped up and then realized that I probably shouldn’t be making any sudden movements. By holding off on b.m.’s all week, I had self-induced diarrhea. Bad.

I was wearing baggy shorts. They came to the knee and were about 20 inches wide, or more, in each leg. Anything that could be sliding around inside my shorts, would probably fall out. Plus, I was wearing the cutest Scooby Doo bikini undies, not exactly the diaper that I needed.

I started walking s-l-o-w-l-y to the bathroom. I ignored the kids calling my name. I made it to the living room, and with great fear, saw that about 10 of my team members, as well as the family’s cute cute cute son (big 13 year old crush going on there) were all lying down in the floor watching home videos from the trip.

Yes, lying down. I had to STEP over 10 people, plus cute son, on my way to the bathroom, while trying not to let anything fall out of my shorts…and the worst part…I wasn’t finished doing my business…so I needed in the bathroom FAST.

Miraculously, nothing fell out. I’m sure everybody thought I had the worst gas in history of man, but nobody asked me about it.

I made it to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes, and with reckless abandon, finished the job. I tried to clean the clothes in the shower, but it didn’t do much good. I showered and then realized I had no towel or clothes to change into. I called the nicest girl in the world to bring me a towel, and streaked into our bedroom, while stashing the clothes behind the toilet.

I dressed as quickly as I could, ran back into the restroom, and debated for a good 30 minutes as to what to do with the clothes. I couldn’t throw them in the trash, because that would leave one of the family members to find my poop stained clothes after we had left (and did I mention that there was a cute son in this family that I had a major crush on??)

I am a little confused as to how my mind worked at 13 years old. Because what I did next was the stupidest thing ever. Instead of packing the clothes in a sealed plastic bag and putting them in my suitcase…I wadded them into a ball and put them into my CARRY ON BAG. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fast forward about 15 hours when we are going through customs at the airport. The man ran my bag through the x-ray machine, and due to some silly souvenir that looked a little strange onscreen, he decided that he would empty my carry on bag onto the table to dig through.

My ears burned. My eyes watered. My knees knocked together while my stomach rumbled…

He opened my bag, peeked his head in for about 3 seconds, made a disgusted face and motioned me to just keep moving.

3 years later, older and wiser, I found myself in Managua Nicaragua again. I was feeling ill, probably drank some tap water without thinking. One of the big guys from Missionary Ventures was with us on the trip. He called me to the dining room to ask how I felt. Sick.

He leaned forward and whispered,
”Is everything…regular?”

I didn’t follow. “Regular?” I asked.

”Yes. Have you been going to the bathroom regularly?” he asked.

looked a little puzzled.

"Yes, everything is regular” I reply.

”I don’t want to be rude or anything, but believe it or not, some kids have a hard time using the bathroom here. They either don’t want to use the squatty potty’s or they don’t feel like they have enough privacy with the bathrooms here. Whenever anyone gets really sick to their stomach, it’s usually because they try to delay the inevitable all week.”

I smirk. “That’s just stupid. Why would anybody do that??”
Good cover up, Mindi, good cover up.

4 Comments:

At 5/14/2005 8:09 AM, Blogger deby said...

I have tears from the laughter!
Thank you for a wonderful Sat. start.

Okay - I guess I am supposed to feel a little sorry for you, right.

I'm trying - just can't keep from laughing.

BTW - did the guy you had a crush on ever get in touch with you? I bet he never forgot you! or the customs guy.

 
At 5/14/2005 8:10 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Mindi, It is not often that I cry so hard that I cry. We read this today and laughed and laughed.

We love and miss you guys.

Chad and Jessica

 
At 5/14/2005 1:10 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Boy, can you tell a story! This is hilarious. I bet someone could keep an entire website going based solely on missionary restroom horror stories. :)

 
At 5/14/2005 1:27 PM, Blogger Valerie Dykstra said...

Very, very funny.

 

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