Recently I read about a girl carrying around a turd in her purse to avoid leaving it in a non-flushing toilet. This story reminded me of the beautiful beaches of Jamaica, the only time I felt tan, and throwing poop on a wall.
Let me explain…
The year is 2006, I’m a sophomore in college at MSU. My roommate, Stacie, and I decide it’s time to take our first crazy spring break trip- and what better place to sow our wild oats than wonderful Jamaica. Plus, Jamaica is really cheap. It’s decided, we are going.
After deciding to embark on our first trip out of the country, we realize we probably need more friends to go with us. We discover most our friends are poor and only these three guys could go (probably because their parents paid for their part, how cool). One of these guys was also someone I briefly dated…which was oh-so-awkward, and he had horrible looking nipples, which we all had to see ALL the time since we were on the beach.
Anywho, we assemble the three guys, ourselves, and we all board the plane to journey to the tropical lands of Jamaica.
Fast forward a few days, foam parties (where I literally almost died), sleeping all night on the beach, me busting Stacie’s lip (that’s another post), and weird tasting ketchup, we wake up one morning and plan to go to the beach first thing, just like every morning.
The normal routine of getting dressed, eating breakfast across the street, and then to the beach. (I forgot to mention we all were sharing a room together- remember sophomores in college…poor). As we all sat on the beach together talking about what we wanted to do that day Stacie and I both looked at each other and knew- we needed to go back to the room, alone. We were still in the stage of not pooping with boys around. Okay, I might still be in this stage.
Us to the boys- “We’re gonna go get a drink. We’ll be back.”
Fast forward to the bathroom that I’m in. It’s a rather nice bathroom for Jamaica, the tile is still shiny, the grout isn’t too dirty, and the plumbing works- I think.
I get done with the deed and am feeling pretty good about our mission. We haven’t been gone long and I know the boys won’t suspect anything.
Then it happens, I try to flush the turd. The toilet is not flushing, it’s actually overflowing. I don’t panic because I’m a confident girl and can figure this out. I look for a plunger, no plunger. By this time I hear Stacie asking what’s up. I’m like, “oh, nothing…the toilet is just overflowing and my turd is in it.”
At this point I have to do something. The overflow is so strong, it’s about to push the turd over the edge. My poop is about to be on the floor. ON THE FLOOR.
Being the creative girl I am, I quickly come up with a plan. There’s a cup in the bathroom…so I scoop up the poop in the cup. There is also a window in the bathroom. Perfect! So I’m standing here with poop in a cup and I decide the best idea is to chuck the turd out the bathroom window. I complete the action in one smooth and swift motion. I’m quite satisfied with myself.
What I don’t account for is the screen on the window- which is apparently non-removable.
So, now I have poop running down the wall and I have to recapture the turd in the cup. The toilet is still overflowing and I have to get out of the poop water. I open the bathroom door. Stacie sees me standing there, in a swimsuit, horror on my face, and my left hand full of a cup of turd. She immediately starts running saying, “get away from me with that!” But she isn’t running too hard because she is overtaken by laughter attacks. I come closer to her because the poop water is beginning to seep out of the bathroom onto the bedroom floor.
I’m freaking out and I need a friend.
Me (with cup of poop in hand): What do I do? Where do I put it?
Stacie (still trying to run but is laughing too hard): Get away from me with that! I don’t know what you should do with it.
Now, remember I’m resourceful and creative. I look outside thinking there might be some dumpster close by. Down to the left of our room I see the maid coming with her maid cart…I instantly get an idea.
Without saying a word, I go wrap the cup and turd in a large bath towel. I hold it and cradle it like a baby in my arms. We quickly leave the room, on our way out I casually place the special delivery in the maid’s dirty laundry bin.
