In 2007, I went to Ann Arbor with Smells to watch Michigan destroy Notre Dame.  I love Notre Dame football and have always wanted to go to the Big House, Michigan’s Stadium.  We got there on Friday night and did the usual campus drinking.  We woke up Saturday morning, tailgated and headed into the stadium.  When we got to our seats, I started feeling that “Uh oh” grumble down below.

This is Michigan vs. Notre Dame, I paid way too much for this ticket, so I’m going to fight this off as long as I can.  Hopefully the game goes by quick and I can make it back to my buddies’ place after the game.  There’s no chance I’m leaving.  I’ll just ignore the pain until it’s too much to bear.

The Irish are getting mauled and I can barely watch any longer but there is zero chance I leave this stadium before the game is over.  I figure I’ll head to the men’s room and crap in a stall.  It’s a little uncomfortable pooping in a public stall but I have a tested nesting routine that I have 100% confidence in.  Besides, I’ve gone in a stall a thousand times before, it won’t be an issue.

When I get up to go, it’s halftime, so every bathroom is packed and the lines are out the door.  I walk into the first men’s room and there are only urinals from end to end, not one single commode?  No big deal, I wasted a few minutes, I’ll walk to the next one.  I walk into restroom two, same issue, all urinals?  What the fuck!?  Walking around is not helping my stomach either at this point, now I’m loosened up and my brain is anticipating going.  I made the commitment in my head to go and me, my brain and my bunghole have all agreed it’s gonna happen soon.  This has now become a full-fledged ES (Emergency Shit).

When I walk into the third bathroom, I’m in luck… sorta.  There are 24 urinals along the wall and a single sit down commode at the end… in plain sight… with no stall around it.  It’s just a random sit down commode in the middle of this room.  There is no seat on this thing and hundreds of guys have been pissing all over it, all day.  I grab a handful of paper towels and get in line for this lone commode.

The lines are about 5 deep so I have time to go over the tactics in my head, on how to be as low-key as possible. (This is like the Army days of planning a raid on a weapons cache.)  However, I am quickly realizing that with 200 guys in this room, all facing the front wall, there is not going to be any way to hide this.  I get to the head of the line and the guy in front of me finishes.   I take the towels, wipe the seat, then turn and look at the face of the guy behind me in line, who is now staring at me like “There is no way is this about to happen.”  Oh yes it is my friend, oh yes it is.

I look this guy straight in the eyes, drop my pants to my ankles and have a seat.  To a man, every single guy in the room erupts into laughter instantaneously.  I sit on this seatless piss-covered commode for what is one of the most relieving dumps of my entire life.

Afterwards, I head back to my seat and meet up with Smells, who asks, “What happened?  You were gone a while.”  “Nothing.”

I wasn’t the only one openly crapping in front of a group of men that day, Michigan 38 – Notre Dame 0.

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