Shipoopi

Shipoopi

It was a hot July day, and the sweltering sun was gleaming on my back as I walked into the Gallery shopping center down town. The stench of gutters, foggy air and food overpowered my nostrils. I loved walking throughout the mall, hearing the echoes of different languages and dialects bounce off one another, making a room full of 30 people feel like one was surrounded by hundreds.   I could not hold it any longer. I ran outside the Hallmark store frantically searching for the nearest bathroom. My stomach had been bubbling and sizzling all afternoon, but I tried to hold off on going to the bathroom for as long as humanly possible. My mind was telling me no, but my body, my stomach was telling me yes. My stomach wobbled to either side with each thud of my feet stomping on the floor.

I had been at the mall shopping for a gift for someone, I can’t really remember who. but they had to be pretty important if I was willing to take my day off from work and go downtown to the gallery and shop for them at my favorite Hallmark Card store. I hadn’t had much to eat and maybe that was where I went wrong, but nevertheless my stomach was about to blow.

I asked the lady at one of the mobile carts in the basement of the gallery where the nearest bathroom was. She pointed to the right and I looked up, noticing a tiny sign on the wall with a picture of stick figure of a man, woman, baby and a toilet. When I was standing under the sign, I looked straight ahead and gawked at the long corridor I had to run down in order to reach the ladies room. I sprinted past all the by passers my bags knocking against them and anything else in my way.  Once I reached the sterile and subway-esque bathroom I ran to the nearest stall while trying to stay away from the most populated parts of the bathroom. I knew I would be in there for a while, so I didn’t want to be near anybody else. I let out a sigh of relief and so did my stomach. When I turned around to flush, I realized I had pooped on the floor. Some of it made it in but there was a good amount that didn’t. I forgot to mention I have a phobia of public toilets. So when I stood over the seat (instead of directly sitting on it), some of my excriments probably missed the hole and landed right behind my legs. I was mortified. I stayed in the stall for 45 minutes because I knew I had to clean it up but I didn’t want people looking at me when I left the stall thinking “that girl just pooped on the floor”. So I stayed until everybody had completely left and cleaned pooped. When I left I looked at the stall to see if it looked normal and I noticed that I had made shit tracks on the ground. The poop had gotten on my shoes. But that’s another story.