The trump card came in the form of two white pills, small and tablety, knock out nuggets of saviour in this hour of need, several hundred kilometres from Quito in a loud rickety bus with the stifling midday heat creeping up on us all. I reached into my pocket, leaning up on one arse cheek hanging out the aisle and all of a sudden fatty brrm brrm falls through the non existent gap between us and made this a horizontal three seater. I pop him back out as I settle back down, and in one smooth motion, drop the pills in my mouth as I chug on some of my luke warm apple postobon.
'Later gator' I smurk down at El Gordito, catch you on the flip side chunkster. My head must of lay dormant for a period of ten minutes, trying to shut everything off and slip into sleeptopia. I flipped over to look out the window. Cows in the fields were gazing up at the bus roaring past, I tried to think of sheep back in New Zealand, waiting for them to start jumping and take me to those white fluffy clouds and sleeeeep sleeeep sleeep
And the cumbia band played on. It felt like an hour and my pill action had bore no harvest, I was still awake. Fatty brrmm brrmm had been restless as per usual and the cows were still passing in the blurry rush outside the finger marked window. I felt hungry but I felt sick at the thought of food. A wave of nausea sweept over me. Ahh, could this be it I optimistically pondered, I dropped the shutters on my eyelids and lay my head back to rest.
No matter how much you butter it up, there is no way to describe the feeling when a sudden surge of diarrhea grips you.
An inferno roars within you, tears through your innards and shoots down through your intestines at a lighting pace. Your stomach tightens and your sphinixter is overcome with a sudden urge to relax, to release the pressure building up behind it. And its that very urge that you must combat and defeat within the 10 second onslaught of a flush of instantaneous diarehea. If not, kiss your dignity goodbye.
No, this cant be happening, I frantically tried to regather my composure. The young mother and Andreas had looked up at me, I must of lurched, squirmed or maybe even let out a terrified yelp. I was so focussed on keeping the back door locked that I lost any sense of my movements and/or vocals. Wow. What the hell just happened. It took me 1.5 seconds to not only realise the gravity of the situation ahead of me but the cataylist responsible. I had been done. I had slipped down two doses of laxitives.
The joke was on me. My thoughts were climbing over top of one another, I tried to sit up straight, I started to smile, I gripped the aisle hand rail, I took a deep breath. Thats actually quite funny. I bet they are pissing themselves with laughter right now. Oh my god, what a numnuts I am. Oh shit, Here goes, here it comes, its on....
This was going to be the mother of all battles. Fighting off a double drop dossage of laxitives whilst sweating out a hangover with loud music and an uncomfortable and irritating seat partner called El Gordito.
I took my breathing down and tried to scramble some thoughts together for a plan of action. I needed a toilet. Sweat started to gather on my brow. I needed toilet paper. Nah first things first. No amount of Colombian one ply toilet paper is going to mop this badboy up if the dam bursts.
Another surge started to swell within me. The tide started to turn somewhere deep in my tummy. I started thinking, this is it Den, your all over here, its the laxitive express hurling down the tracks hard and fast.....
A million thoughts crossed my mind. Kiss goodbye to all the dignity you have stored away whilst on this trip Denis, in fact, explain to the raging bus driver in your fumbling spanish that his seat is soiled, explain to those around you who are pulling out handkerchiefs fasting than you can scramble your words together. Look the young mother and Andreas in the eye and say sorry, i shat myself.
And it burned, burned burned....that ring of fire... that ring of fire.....
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