paddymelt
Well-known member
In Amsterdam one morning after a night of drinking Jamesons and this piss beer called Columbus, I woke up in this little boat that I was squatting on one of the canals with the most terrifying urge to defecate. There was this pressure in my bowels as if god's invisible hand reached down and grabbed me near the base of my spine and was slowly squeezing until I leaked shit.
Before I ruined my only pair of pants in a foreign country, I searched like hell for a toilette. Unfortunately all I found was a playground full of children and no good bushes for cover.
There were no shops or businesses around for me to use the bathroom and I was terrified of being chased by an angry mob of dutch mothers if I suddenly had to drop trow near the playground in front of their kids. So i tried to make it to my friends squat several blocks away.
I made it half a block along the first main street , when there was gods firm grip on my bowels again, this time unrelenting. It was as if I were a tube of toothpaste being squeezed by an overzealous dental hygienist. I leaned against a brick building as the poo ran out of me and formed a hot mud mask inside my Carhartts around my butt-cheeks. Grabbing my pant legs around the back of the knees in an attempt to maintain the leakage I moved down the sidewalk. I felt like a dejected animal and I walked like that, ridiculously hunched over with my hands gripped around my knees, for six cobblestoned blocks.
When i got to the squat i yelled up to my friend Burger's window to let me in, he had running water and a shower in the derelict building they had taken over. Posh, I know...
Burger finally came to the window up on the 4th floor after I had called his name about 5 times. He yelled down to the street that they were all still sleeping and that I should come back in a few hours then he started to disappear back away from the window.
Panicking, I yelled "WAIT" and "its a goddamn emergency!"
He came back to the window annoyed and shouted back "WHATTHAFUK?"
Seeing no use with discretion i let him know.
"I shat myself okay? I need to use the shower for christsake!!!"
A moment later it had registered with him, and everyone else up there for that matter, because I heard a raspy if not thunderous amount of laughter mixed with coughing and foreign swear words come from the inside the window. Finally he threw down the keys and I was making my way up the four flights of stairs, hunched over with feces beginning to make its way into my boots.
Once inside Burger opened the door holding his nose like a little kid about to jump off the high-dive at the local public swimming pool. I saw half a dozen heads peak up from various sleeping positions then disappear back to snigger at me from within the stale warmth of their sleeping bags. Burger led me down a dark hallway with no lights to the bathroom which also had no electricity.
Once inside the shower, I took all my clothes off and turned the water on. It was the coldest shower I have ever experienced and the cold seemed even more infinite due to the total darkness of the windowless bathroom. I washed all the shit off of my lower body, forcing little turd particles through the tiny holes in the drain with my foot until the poo felt all disbursed beneath my toes. Then I tried to clean the feces out of the thick duck cloth of my double knee work pants. When my pants were nearly clean I turned them inside out, put them back on and just stood shivering under the icy water for about 20 minutes while waiting for the smell to wash away. It never quite did. I took my pants off again, wrung them out and tried to drip dry because there were no towels. Finally I turned my pants back right-side out, got dressed in my soggy clothes, left the bathroom, walked down the crazy dark staircase, and walked out the front door of the squat; out into the brisk gray Netherland morning.
By nightfall I was mostly dried out. That night while walking down Damrak, the main street near the train station and the red-light district, I ran into a few of the people from that squat. They were all jovial and happy to tease me about the morning, someone handed me a warm Columbus and said "here you go Paddy-Poopy-Pants" and everyone laughed their asses off at my expense.
The nickname "Paddy Poopy Pants" hung around me about as long as the odor did. I left Amsterdam for Berlin a week later and it was cool with me that the nickname didn't follow.
Read more:
Before I ruined my only pair of pants in a foreign country, I searched like hell for a toilette. Unfortunately all I found was a playground full of children and no good bushes for cover.
There were no shops or businesses around for me to use the bathroom and I was terrified of being chased by an angry mob of dutch mothers if I suddenly had to drop trow near the playground in front of their kids. So i tried to make it to my friends squat several blocks away.
I made it half a block along the first main street , when there was gods firm grip on my bowels again, this time unrelenting. It was as if I were a tube of toothpaste being squeezed by an overzealous dental hygienist. I leaned against a brick building as the poo ran out of me and formed a hot mud mask inside my Carhartts around my butt-cheeks. Grabbing my pant legs around the back of the knees in an attempt to maintain the leakage I moved down the sidewalk. I felt like a dejected animal and I walked like that, ridiculously hunched over with my hands gripped around my knees, for six cobblestoned blocks.
When i got to the squat i yelled up to my friend Burger's window to let me in, he had running water and a shower in the derelict building they had taken over. Posh, I know...
Burger finally came to the window up on the 4th floor after I had called his name about 5 times. He yelled down to the street that they were all still sleeping and that I should come back in a few hours then he started to disappear back away from the window.
Panicking, I yelled "WAIT" and "its a goddamn emergency!"
He came back to the window annoyed and shouted back "WHATTHAFUK?"
Seeing no use with discretion i let him know.
"I shat myself okay? I need to use the shower for christsake!!!"
A moment later it had registered with him, and everyone else up there for that matter, because I heard a raspy if not thunderous amount of laughter mixed with coughing and foreign swear words come from the inside the window. Finally he threw down the keys and I was making my way up the four flights of stairs, hunched over with feces beginning to make its way into my boots.
Once inside Burger opened the door holding his nose like a little kid about to jump off the high-dive at the local public swimming pool. I saw half a dozen heads peak up from various sleeping positions then disappear back to snigger at me from within the stale warmth of their sleeping bags. Burger led me down a dark hallway with no lights to the bathroom which also had no electricity.
Once inside the shower, I took all my clothes off and turned the water on. It was the coldest shower I have ever experienced and the cold seemed even more infinite due to the total darkness of the windowless bathroom. I washed all the shit off of my lower body, forcing little turd particles through the tiny holes in the drain with my foot until the poo felt all disbursed beneath my toes. Then I tried to clean the feces out of the thick duck cloth of my double knee work pants. When my pants were nearly clean I turned them inside out, put them back on and just stood shivering under the icy water for about 20 minutes while waiting for the smell to wash away. It never quite did. I took my pants off again, wrung them out and tried to drip dry because there were no towels. Finally I turned my pants back right-side out, got dressed in my soggy clothes, left the bathroom, walked down the crazy dark staircase, and walked out the front door of the squat; out into the brisk gray Netherland morning.
By nightfall I was mostly dried out. That night while walking down Damrak, the main street near the train station and the red-light district, I ran into a few of the people from that squat. They were all jovial and happy to tease me about the morning, someone handed me a warm Columbus and said "here you go Paddy-Poopy-Pants" and everyone laughed their asses off at my expense.
The nickname "Paddy Poopy Pants" hung around me about as long as the odor did. I left Amsterdam for Berlin a week later and it was cool with me that the nickname didn't follow.
Read more:
