This is going to be a long one but sooo worth the read!!! I
promise. This is for all of you that wonder if those Peace Corps stories are
real. This happened to one of the guys serving in the DR. He is just completing his service.
I was out on a Sunday night in my campo, the music was
blaring and the female attire was at it's bare minimum. A typical Sunday night
in the DR. There was a local lady named Mami who sold fritura. The spot was
infamous for it's lack of sanitationand she was know for her disregard for
personal hygiene. A real gem.
After a long night of fermented beverages I got hungry.
There were no other options but the
roach coach. I pounded like 5 Johnny Cakes. I went home and my night was
concluded.
The next day I had to travel into the capital to meet a
family member. I got up realy early in order to catch the 7 am bus. As I walked
to the bus my stomach started to rumble. It felt like someone was playing
marbles in there. I thought to myself, "We stop in like a couple of hours,
whatever, I can wait." Twenty minutes later the cobrador (guy who takes
money on the bus) told me we weren't going to leave for another 2 hours. There
weren't enough passengers he said. I
couldn’t wait that long so I decided to get off and take a car to Las Martas de
Farfan. They have buses that leave all of the time. By this time my stomach had
settled down, along with my nerves.
I arrive in Las Matas and quickly jump onto the bus. Fifteen
minutes later we take off. I’m excited about this trip. I got a good seat, no
one is sitting next to me, and the AC is blasting. Yea boi. From Las Matas it
takes about 4 hours to get to the capital. If my stomach starts acting up
again, I always have the stop where I can use the bathroom. 30 minutes into the
bus ride my stomach starts to hurt again. On top of that I feel like I am going
to crap my pants if I do not get to a bathroom within the hour. “Good thing we
have that stop coming up,” I thought to myself. One hour into the travel
everything starts to get worse. Let me give you guys an analogy so that you can
picture my situation with more clarity. The sensation of crapping my pants was
coming and going like a set of waves. At the moment the first set had come in
and the crest of the wave was about to break.
I am not a very religious man by any sorts. But, when the
crest of this wave was peaking, I began to pray to every existent and non-existent
deity. The only thing that managed to calm me down was the fact that the stop
was coming up. I managed to survive the first set of waves, how, I do not know.
Praise the Lord.
A fair amount of time had passed and I could feel the next
set of waves coming in. This time, I knew I wasn’t going to survive this one.
The bus was now packed, the AC was now puttering and I was going to crap
myself. YAY!! The wave was rearing its ugly head again and I was using every
sphincter muscle in my body in order to not withdrawal any unwanted currency.
We were about 5 min away from the stop and I was sweating. It was so bad now
that I couldn’t put any pressure on my butt. I was pushing myself up with one
hand on the seat and the other on the back rest of the seat in front of me. ‘Yes,
I can see the stop, thank you God.” As we got close to the stop I start to
stand up and prepare to casually walk off the bus. The next thing to happen
would change my life and the lives of the people around me forever. I noticed
the bus wasn’t slowing, eventually realizing that it wouldn’t slow down as we
flew by.
I had completely forgotten that I was on the bus from Las
Matas de Faran, they stop in Bani, which is basically in the capitol. I WAS
GOING TO SHIT MY PANTS.
My arm is hurting from holding myself up and we are stopping
every 15 feet to pick someone up. On top of that the lady’s daughter next to me
just vomited 7 meals. The wave is at its peak and people are complaining about
my farts. I join their rate and blame a group of gentlemen that just got
off. Somehow I still haven’t soiled
myself. We are nearing Bani, I can see the entrance to the town. If Bani doesn’t
have the most potholes in the entire country, then I don’t know what city does.
As we drive through the city the dang driver seems to be intentionally aiming
towards the holes. I cannot longer hold it in anymore. I don’t want to get up and
ask them to stop because the second I stand up straight I will crap myself. And,
I know they will not let me back on. They’ll just throw my stuff out the window
and yell, “Diablo.”
We are about to exit the city, I am relieved. My hiatus is
abruptly ended when I see a pot hole deeper that Ekwow’s laugh. Deep. The idiot
bus driver is not slowing down. I don’t know if he is blind in one eye or
mentally incapacitated, or still hung-over from the “mamajuana” he drank last
night. He goes right through the hole and all hell breaks loose in my pants. I
crap myself completely. Good thing Prince Royce was singing about his last card
in the background, or else everyone would have heard what was occurring.
From the exit of Bani to the stop it is about 10 minutes.
People are immediately complaining, “Diablo, huele a pura mierda,” says the
passenger behind me. I could care less about him since he was being racist when
some Haitians came on the bus. I open the window to try and aerate the bus. “No,
no, cierre ese cristal que el olor viene de afuera,” says some dona. “Ay si,
tiene razon,” I exclaim. Now the crap smell has melded with the vomit smell. I
kid you not, the smell is so bad that my eyes start to tear up.
We pull up to the stop in Bani. Usually the entire bus gets
off when they get to the stop. 3 damn people get off. I am sitting all the way
in the back and have no idea how I am going to get off without everyone knowing
it is me. I have no escape, unless I want to jump out the window and there is
no way I am doing that. I get up and look down, there is a puddle on my seat.
My jeans have filtered all of the solids. There are so many people on the bust
there are legs in the passageway. I am going to have to shinny out. “Which way
am I going to face my butt, right of left? I am defiantly facing it towards the
left. That lady and her vomiting daughter are disgusting.” This is all going
through my head and I start to walk off.
During this entire experience I did not feel a bit of embarrassment
or shame, nothing. When I started to shimmy out of the bus some of my senses
shut off. I couldn’t hear, smell or feel. It’s almost like a defense mechanism my
brain turned on in order for my ego and self respect to survive. I got to the
toilet and immediately took off my pants and boxers, threw them In a corner and
called the lady who was cleaning. I said, “Deme 3 rolos de papel y traigame el
zafaco para botar esta ropa.” Instead of doing that she decided to be a hero
and call the security guard. He walked in and I told him what was happening, “Estoy
infermo, tengo diarrhea.” The dona then did what I asked of her. She also
called the cobrador on my behalf. He walks in and says, “Quien se cago aqui,
quien esta infermo?” I poke my head out of the stall and raise my hand. Then I
tell him to bring me my bag. Luckily I had an extra set of clothing. Now I am
sitting in the stall with crap almost half way up my back and halfway down my
thighs. “How am I going to clean this stuff off of me, I can’t walk out naked
and clean myself with the sink water, they’ll defiantly kick me out.” I stand
up, look down and do the unthinkable. I remember hearing somewhere that toilet
water wasn't actually that dirty. Soooo, I start to dip into the toilet and use
the water to clean myself up and put on a fresh set of clothing. That ladies
and gentlemen is my story.
I had to share this cause I was laughing the whole way
through and this is not the first time I have heard a story like this. I hope
you enjoyed.
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