I changed jobs in 1996 and moved to middle Tennessee. The town where we were moving was about 4 hours from our home in West Tennessee. We only had two children at the time, but our daughter was only 2 and our son wasn’t even a year old. We were going to spend a weekend in our new hometown looking for a house. We planned a stop for a nice celebration meal in Jackson, Tennessee which was only minutes away from our house and on the way. Our plans were disrupted when the kids immediately fell sound asleep as well before we got to Jackson. Most of the time, you are better off continuing to drive while the kids are asleep. We changed our plans and decided that the Burger King drive-thru would be a better option that night.
The Burger King drive-thru was reasonably fast that night but our son started stirring as we were waiting in line at the window. We second guessed our decision to pass on the nice meal and were becoming disappointed our meal choice. If they could only get our food to us faster, maybe our son would go back to sleep as the car started moving. As we pulled away from the window with our food, he seemed to be settling back down. But when we were back on the highway, it was apparent that he was going to wake up and was ready to eat. My wife told me to find a place to pull over where she could feed him. My wife gets upset when she is hungry. She was hungry and the fact that there was food in the car didn’t help because she was going to be feeding our son first. We pulled off the interstate and stopped at a convenience store. I would not get to eat my food either because my wife gave me a sippy cup and told me to get water for our son.
This was before people would buy bottled water. I went into the store looking for a water fountain. When I asked the man behind the counter said in a Middle Eastern or Indian accent, “No! No! It is not allowed! City Limits is that way!” He pointed in the direction of the town. I assumed that they had some regulation about water fountains and the quality of water. I asked the guy if he had a sink in the men’s room. He said “Sure!” I was ok then. I filled the sippy cup at the men’s room sink and took it back to the car.
My wife had my son in her lap and was shoving food at him. She was irritated. When I asked if I could help, she told me to eat my food. At least one of us would be eating. When our son was finished, he went back into the car seat and my wife started eating as we got back on the road. It was a disappointing meal for both of us on a night where we had planned to celebrate.
It was less than an hour later when I started feeling the familiar pains in my abdomen. They were the pains that seem to hit me every time after I ate at Burger King. I had similar pains whenever I ate at Pizza Hut. There was a Pizza Hut that was about 30 minutes from our house. There was a little town that we drove through about 15 minutes into the trip. When we would get to that town, I would always get pains and drive fast to get home. It happened often enough that I would tell my wife I was going to have the “Pizza Hut shits”.
I had started noticing that I reacted the same way to Burger King. This was going to be one of those nights. We had hit a stretch of the road where there were no exits. My foot pressed against the accelerator a little harder in hopes of helping me get there a little quicker and helping me contain the storm brewing in my digestive system. I’m not one to pull off on the side of the road to take care of a situation like this. When I felt like this, it was not going to be easy to clean up. I preferred to have all the conveniences of a modern restroom to clean myself up. I was not going to stop until I found a normal place to go.
We finally came to an exit with two gas stations, a BP and an Exxon. I stopped at the BP because we came to it first. I rushed into the store and found the restrooms at the back. I grabbed the knob to the door to the men’s room and found that it was locked. It was a single occupancy restroom. It was decision time. I had no idea how long the men’s room had been occupied. Had they just gotten there? How long were they going to take? The Exxon station was right beside the BP. If I decided to go there, would I run to that station instead of going back to the car? What if that restroom was occupied too? Do I try the women’s room here? Precious time was passing as I tried to decide what to do. Finally, the door to the men’s room opened. An old man and his grandson were coming out. I shoved the old man out of the way to get into the restroom. I locked the door. Things were moving fast. I pulled down my pants. The shit hit the water before my ass hit the seat. I felt better but it was also very unpleasant. You may have heard of the term “courtesy flush” which refers to flushing the toilet in a multi-stall restroom before you are finished to remove the source of the unpleasant odor as a courtesy to others in the room. This was a case where I felt the need to give myself a courtesy flush. I reached back to push the handle and it just clicked. Nothing flushed. I pushed again and it clicked again. Still no flush. About this time, I hear a knock on the door. Someone else needs in. Hopefully it’s just the chain that’s fallen off the handle attachment. Here I am with my pants around my ankles, filthy and trying to perform simple plumbing tasks. There’s nothing wrong with the chain. The water is turned on. I can find nothing wrong other than the fact that the toilet will not flush. I’ve got to get out of here and someone is still outside. I clean myself and the restroom as good as I can. I prepare myself mentally to exit. I open the door. It seemed like the man waiting outside was 8-foot-tall and 4-foot-wide, a giant of a man. Maybe it was just the fact that I was looking down, determined not to make eye contact with him. I stepped out of the restroom staring into his chest and mumbled, “I wouldn’t go in there if I was you”. I ran out to the car. My wife started opening her door which I told her to close. She said, “But I need to go to the restroom!” I replied, “You’re not going here!” As we drove to the Exxon, I told her my story.