Friday, 9 November 2012

Close Calls

Not sure I should feel flattered, but it appears as though I am the unofficial office/friend guru relating to all things butt.  This was proven again last week when a friend shared this article (she thought of me immediately!) about the public washroom situation in Halifax. I felt the need to briefly comment on this article.  I agree with the statement that public washrooms are hard to come by in certain areas of the city and that in Point Pleasant Park the signage is lackluster.  Indeed, there is nothing worse than going for a run only to be overtaken by a sense of impending doom as you are trying to not-quite-walk and not-quite-run to the nearest washroom - and you have no idea where they are!  And when I say not-quite-walk and not-quite-run - I am referring to one of life's great dilemmas: is it better to run in the hopes of arriving faster - or will that only hasten the runs?  Or, do you walk to try to slow things down, but potentially not arrive fast enough?  I am stumped, someone please tell me the right answer!

For any of you with IBS, or perhaps even a bout of the flu, you can likely relate to that sinking feeling, knowing that the runs are on their way, whether you like it or not.  This often happens to me in transit (car, bus), at work, walking, running and travelling.  One of my closest calls ever was in the heat of summer, I went for a run, was feeling confident, so ran a little further, only to realize that I was in trouble.  I was near the junior high school where I grew up, so I turned in, dashing for the door, sweaty, crying and banging for someone to please open up.  Luckily, the janitor was there (which was a pure miracle considering it was summer), I yelled EMERGENCY and ran past him to the washroom.  He was kind enough to ensure he was not around when I finally surfaced.  Needless to say I walked the rest of the way home, but, ever since then, I always carry a cell phone when running, because you never know when the wave will hit you.  This may seem trivial, but, it was a traumatic event for me.  Let's be honest - no one really has a burning desire to crap their pants, let alone in public.  This is probably one of the worst things about having IBS, not knowing when it will hit and whether or not you will be prepared.  There is always the sense of dread that today will be "the day" that you do not make it.

Moments like these certainly make for funny stories after the fact ... "do you remember when I was late for our wedding?" "do you remember when you had to spend a half our in the stall with me holding up my wedding dress?" ..."remember that time on our honeymoon when..."... interesting how the big events in my life are all framed with toilet tales!  At the end of the day, all you can really do is laugh and hope that someone in urban planning has the foresight to strategically place washrooms and that Europe will someday embrace the idea of not having to pay for the toilet!

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