If you smile through your fear and sorrow...

Considering recent events, I need a good laugh. This Stu misadventure always makes me do just that. As I always belabor, this BLOG is my labor of love for Team Tinsley. My goal is that in the Buck Rogers future this chronicle will be a present of the present to the Boy(s). That is the reason I dedicate so much time to the effort. Still, I must confess I find it titillating that so many people read my goofy BLOG. Actually, I’m shocked by how many read it. Still, more shocking to me is what those readers find interesting. For example, by far, the two most commented on (via email, usually anonymous email which I find interesting as well) have been, Fear Factor and Hope springs eternal. For whatever reason, my guess is because they are so personal, they struck a chord in those that stumbled across my little BLOG. For all those in the (e)Mail bag that asked in regard to Hope springs eternal, is that really real? Yes. My Lovely Bride can vouch for me. She also reads this here BLOG with what I’m sure is a sense of bewilderment. I can see her on the home machine, reading what I’ve wrote, shaking her head, and thinking, He’s mine. All mine. Poor woman.

The truth at times is indeed stranger than fiction for a Boy named Stu. I’m not sure if I am a lighting rod for goofy shit, or that I’m just more inclined to tell the stories? Do I simply wear my heart upon my sleeve in what is otherwise a muscle shirt world? I’m not sure. What I do know is that I told you all of that, for this: a (bad) set-up for this Stu misadventure. One that is funny. And as I said in the beginning, I need to laugh, even if it is at myself. What you are about to read is true. Funny. Twisted. Sick. But, all true.

On a nice spring day a few years in the rear view I decided to take a nice lunch time run vs. riding the bike at 24 Fitness. The club is in the heart of North Dallas/Addison. I’ve done the run a few times before. It is quite nice. I leave the club, run through the Addison town hall area, where I connect with a wooded trail that runs along White Rock Creek. The trail dumps me into a very posh North Dallas neighborhood. I run on this street, by multi-million dollar homes, up a very long hill (which is very rare in flat Dallas.) At the crest of the hill sits Celestial Park. After running through this small park, I hit a main road that takes me back to the parking lot of the Health Club. This routes takes me 25 to 30 minutes depending on how fast I run/jog.

So, picture if you will, me on my Gary Cooper time run. Chamber of commerce beautiful weather for the messoplex. We’re talking blue skies and sunny with little humidity, temp in the mid 60s. It was glorious. As I ran down past Houston’s (Read: popular Restaurant) in North Dallas, about to connect with White Rock Creek Trail, I felt a funny rumble in my stomach. Since I was only five minutes or so out, I figured it was simply a runner’s cramp and pushed through the pain. About ten minutes into the run in the middle of the White Rock Creek Trail, which is very secluded, I had another rumble that turned into a sharp pain. We’re talking sharp enough to stop me in my tracks, bend over pain. Strange. I normally don’t cramp when I run, but, it had been awhile since I had been on a run thus I figured, simple cramp. Suck it up. I did and was doing pretty fine until I neared the end of the White Rock Creek Trail were I was going to dump onto this very nice, and exclusive street. It was here that I had another sharp pain that again stopped me in my tracks and caused me to bend over. Only this time a menacing rumble followed that meant only one thing. I had to shit. Bad. I’m a fairly regular sort of guy, usually moving my bowels daily, in the AM, which I had done that very day. So, the thought that this was a poop call, the second one of the day, well, I couldn’t believe it. Surely, I could hold it until I got back to the club. Maybe it was a false alarm?

Cautiously, I started to jog up the long hill toward Celestial Park, fearing another pain in my gut, I was really speed walking more than jogging. Didn’t matter, less than a minute later, another sharp pain hit me and another rumble. Thunder in my gut. It was so bad that I sat on the curb in front of a million dollar home and tried to let the urge to defecate in my shorts pass. It wasn’t easy. I broke a cold sweat. Finally, the feeling subsided, somewhat, and I decided to walk, not run up the hill toward Celestial Park. I figured, fast walking, I’d be back at the club in 15 to 20 minutes (if I was running it would be more like 10, but I couldn’t risk that at this point.)

Blue skies overhead, million dollar homes to my right and left, all I could see was each foot step up what is probably the only hill in North Dallas, sweating, not from the exercise but the struggle to keep from shitting all over myself. I had to stop three times to sit on the curb, legs crossed before I even made it to the top of the hill and Celestial Park where I noticed that I wasn't the only one enjoying the nice weather. Celestial Park's parking lot was full.

Celestial Park is small. There are no facilities. Not even a water fountain. Just a bowl shaped park with a walking trail and a raised area that has a wall and sundial thing. People were all over the bowl area, sitting on the benches that lined the trail, having romantic lunches. I watched many of them eating their Subway take out, and paper sack lunches, as I sat on a small ledge trying to make my poop stay inside.

Considering I never made Webelos is it any wonder that I didn’t know that the Boy Scouts motto is be prepared. More to the point, I had NO idea what to do in this situation. I was at a loss. I was still 10 minutes (running) from the Club. So, after resting on the wall for a few moments, I decided to suck it up, and in, and try to make it back. This time, I only made it a few feet before the pain struck. That is when I realized I needed a back up plan, because there was no way I was going to be able to walk and hold my poop all the way back to the club.

I considered knocking on the door of one of the million dollar homes, to see if I could use their bathroom. Most had gates though, and even if I could get in, and wasn’t shot by a rent-a-cop, I had to ask myself, would they really let a strange man into their home to shit? Probably not.

My next thought was that I could walk back down the hill to White Rock Creek Trail and shit in the woods. It was very secluded. That sounded like a good plan. Only problem was, my body wasn’t going to cooperate. There was no way I was going to make it down the hill. I was about to shit, right then and there. If I didn’t do something fast, I was going to shit myself, standing on the sidewalk in front of Celestial Park which I also considered. I mean, it would be bad, and all, but there were showers at 24 Fitness. I could clean up when I got back. Then again, I would have to walk into the busy club, and all the way through it to get to the bathroom, with shit in my pants. It was a typical health club shower too, I wouldn't have much privacy to clean up during the lunch time rush. Nope. In the end, I couldn’t shit in my jogging shorts, so I decided to do the only thing I felt was possible. I was going to shit in Celestial Park.

Since I was about to explode, I didn’t have a lot of time to case the park. I did a quick look and saw that there were 8 people in the park. Thankfully they were all in the lower part, either on benches or on the grassy center lawn, eating lunch, enjoying the day. I decided I to go to the top tier of the park, to the sundial thingy area where I’d have a better vantage point over the surrounding ground.

I tried to innocently walk past the people (which was hard, because I had to shit - bad) up the stairs to an area that has a funky sundial. Each step was painful. Based on my walk, the people probably thought I was physcially challenged, that is how bad I had to poop. The stairs were really hard. Sweating. I was afraid I was going to lose control of my bowels on the steps, right in front of a young couple eating their Subway sandwiches.

At the top, I decided to sit on the wall for a minutes to try and regain my composure and figure out where I could do my business. Looking around, I decided to hop the wall I was sitting on, and go behind a small copse of trees. I wouldn’t be covered, but no one would see me unless they happened to look up that way which was out of their way. The street was no that far to my South, but again, a person in a car would have to look for me to see me. This was my best option. Still, much to my horror, I was very much in the wide open, and could easily be spotted by people in the park, not to mention from the second floors of many of the homes that lined the West side of the park. This was causing me to have second thoughts when the final pain shot through me, causing me to damn near unclench my butt and shit then and there. It was all I could do to half way bend over and pull down my pants and poop. Hard.

Finished. The reality of the situation returned and I again became paranoid. Here I was, standing in the middle of the park, sort of squatting, watching people eat lunch, while I hovered naked from the waist down, over my pile of waste. You can well imagine that I was freaked. I’m sure there are laws against this sort of thing.

Still, I did feel a lot better having relieved myself, until I realized that I still had a problem. I had to wipe. Even though I wasn’t a Boy Scout, I did know a few things about this problem. As a kid, I’ve shit in the woods. I think most kids have at one time. Back in the day, I always used my socks. But being that my day was the mid to late 1970s, that meant gargantuan tube socks. We’re talking over the knees long. Two of these bad boys and hell, it was like having a roll of Charmin with you at all times. Tube socks might not have been the most fashion forward item, but by golly, they were excellent for wiping your ass in the wilderness.

The problem with today was, I was wearing those little runner ankle socks. Not much material to wipe with in my opinion. I would also have to take my shoes off which would leave me exposed in the open longer. So, I made the executive decision to use my underwear. I don’t even wear underwear half the time, so no big loss. It was a good plan, or so I thought, until I realized I would have to completely take off my shorts to remove my underwear. Since I didn't want to take my shoes off, I would also have to navigate my shorts and underwear over my shoes while they were still on my feet. Considering I would be doing this over a pile of shit, without a net, it sounded more like some freaky challenge on a Reality TV show than real life. Worse, doing this would leave me, ever so briefly, while retrieving my briefs, nude from the waist down in the middle of a public park. I know there are laws against this.

If only one person in the park decided to casually look up my way, or a passing car looked over my way, and they saw me, a thirtysomething man with no pants on in a little stand of trees overlooking a park, well what would you think? Hell, if I did get caught my only defense against being a pervert would be that I was taking a shit in the park. Still, I had to do something, so working as quickly as possible, I shucked my jogging shorts, pulled off my underwear, wiped my ass as best I could, and put my shorts back on. Done. No one had seen me. Victory. Well, not quite. I was still a few feet from the finish line which was going to take me right back by those folks eating their lunch. They were next to the nearest trash can. I couldn’t walk out of the trees in front of these people eating their nice lunch with a pair of shit stained briefs in my hand. And there was no way I was going to put the filthy undies under my shirt or in my shorts either. I figured, since I was on a roll, why not go for a social deviance trifecta, and break another law and litter in this fine park. So, that's what I did. I left my shit stained undies next to my pile of excrement. Walked back down the steps, past the couple eating their lunch (who gave me a wary eye), and back to 24 Hour Fitness. Citizen of the year. That's me.

Later that day, sitting at my desk, at my real job, thinking about what had happened at lunch I nearly shit myself again. Only this time it was from laughing. I kept thinking of the poor city employee, or jogger, or nature enthusiast who stumbled upon my pile of crud. At first they might think it was an animal? A large dog perhaps. Then, they'd notice the shit stained underwear laying near the pile, and slowly they would realize what had went down at this most tony of Parks in North Dallas.

Until I BLOG again…smile and maybe tomorrow...