What do you get when you mix a tiny throat puncher, a Greek goddess, a foul-mouthed Southern belle, a girl I lovingly call “Beardy” and a vegetarian with an elevator bank?
Nothing pretty. That’s what.
All we wanted was a free Hot Wheels car.
What we got was four elevator trips, three panic attacks, a pair of almost-soiled panties, one wrestling match and some tears.
A chance meeting in the hall at BlogHer12 turned into a spontaneous trip up to the 42nd floor suites, where some companies were giving away free goodies. We all had forgotten about the existence of our kids by then, and decided to run up there to see if we could each get a little something to bring home to them.
We waited in the elevator bank with 700 other people, happily chatting and talking about how that day’s lunch was nowhere as delicious as yesterday’s.
I was feeling the beginnings of a certain biological need, but thought to myself, How long could this little trip possibly take?
We had plenty of time to pop upstairs, check out one suite, use the bathroom, and get back down in time for the closing speeches, right?
What could possibly go wrong?
It didn’t take long to notice that we were standing in front of the express elevator. As in, expressly travelling from the floor below us to the ones way above us, never stopping where we were.
Finally, after maybe 10 minutes or so of waiting, Punchy, Goddess and I bum-rushed our way into a crowded elevator, leaving the others to catch the next one.
Side Note: It was in this sardine can hurling towards the sky that it was confirmed:
I could nurse Punchy while standing up, such is the stretch of space between our respective heights. We totally could have rocked that Time Magazine cover.
Anyway, after multiple stops for non-BlogHer hotel residents who must hate every last one of us, we get upstairs, eventually find the suite and start checking out all the cool new stuff. In about 30 seconds, Beardy and Belle arrive, apparently with invisible tickets in hand to an Express Elevator for Special Folks.
Just the sight of the suite’s restroom out of the corner of my eye made it clear to me that I didn’t have much more time to mess around looking at toys. I needed to get to my room, pronto. I had the quickly increasing urge to colon purge.
We stroll back towards the elevator bank, and while we’re talking I notice Beardy lean over to whisper something to Belle, and I could read everything she was thinking in the set of her shoulders:
– There’s a long, complaining line of people waiting at the elevators.
– There’s a dude in a neon green tee in front of us who must weigh a solid 4 bills.
– She’s afraid of elevators.
When I touch her arm and she turns around, I can see the panic in her eyes. We all agree to take the stairs.
On our way there, I begin clenching my colon because things are getting rather dire in my downtown.
Thank God for Anal Kegels.
As we’re headed for the stairs, a Miracle Boy swings open a door and sends us inside to his Super-Secret Service Elevators with a smile. I’m hoping at least one of the ladies behind me gave him a quick snog of gratitude.
We stood in the metallic room waiting for the elevators with a couple employees and us. Manageable. Hopeful. Tittering nervously.
Starting to panic.
The ding of the elevator took forever, but there was an audible sigh of relief from all of us (and the Quinoa Salad wrestling with my colon) as the doors opened.
Then many things happened all at once:
– The two employees entered the elevator
– Beardy, Goddess & I shoved our way in next
– Punchy & Belle filed in on the other side
– Two women with massive rolling bags decided to smush their way in, causing an alarm to start blaring
– Beardy went into Full Code RED, WHITE & BLUE (PILLS) Alert, trying to push the women with the bags out of the elevator
– 4 of us spoke at once, trying to get the Roller Bag Ladies to get the hell out before our friend Beardy imploded
– I almost had a Turtle Peek-a-Poo incident when I forgot to clench for a second
– the alarm kept blaring
– one bag lady moved aside
– Beardy started jumping over the bags to get out, so I calmly told her I’d wait with her but 4 of my friends screamed, “NO KIM NOT YOU YOU’LL SHIT YOUR PANTS!”
– The four women in the elevator who didn’t know any of us looked at me in horror
– Sweat pooled beneath the cleavage of Beardy, Belle & I as we all squeezed back into the elevator, and hit the Lobby button 17x.
– Beardy started crying, so I began singing while Goddess made jokes and sang, too, with Punchy & Belle making encouraging comments from the other side of the steamy silver Coffin of Panic.
Tears rolled from half of us, deep breaths were taken, dirty looks passed from the women who didn’t know us, and finally – FINALLY! – the doors opened in the lobby, letting in a sweep of fresh air as Beardy catapulted herself over the Rolling Bag Ladies, covered in flop sweat and adrenaline.
They all headed out their separate ways to quietly weep in their rooms, recover with a drink at the bar, or heal their wounds with chocolate, as I BOLTED to my own elevator bank in order to not show the kind people of the Hilton NYC the bad end of what I had for lunch the day before.
There was a small crowd in front of my elevator, including Dude with a Luggage Cart, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I squeezed in among a handful of others and pressed seven while concentrating on anything that had nothing to do with the words “Exit,” “Out,” or “Push.”
The elevator stopped on 3.
The elevator stopped on 4.
The elevator stopped on 5.
The elevator stayed on 5.
Doors opened closed opened closed opened closed.
Stayed closed.
It stopped moving.
I am stuck in an elevator with people who have yet to laugh at any of my jokes (have I mentioned that I try to be funny when I’m nervous? It doesn’t work) and an arm’s length of overstaying guests trying to sneak out my back door.
The Dude With the Luggage Cart calmly says, “Oh, this happens all the time” and asks the lady in front of the sealed-tight doors to step aside.
I looked to see whether I could hide behind the bags on the luggage cart to poo in relative peace, should we be stuck in here for more than the next 12 seconds.
The Dude pressed the button again, and the doors slid partially open. He then threw himself at them, loudly grunted while pressing them shut with all his might. Not the most reassuring sight.
But we went up.
When the door opened on 7 I may or may not have shoved aside a women with frosted tips in my mad dash for the loo.
Once inside, having a seat never felt so good.
Ever.
As I felt the relief of finally bringing The Brown Family to the Porcelain Pool, I knew something special had happened:
I just had the kind of experience that bonds people together. The tears, the fears, the funny, the way everyone was there for one another, no matter what scene they were making because of the anxieties they faced. No one was rolling their eyes or judging, everyone stepped up to help one another get through the experience, whether or not they openly wept, grabbed strangers, or crapped their pants.
I realized I made the kind of friends I can count on.
(And really needed to lay off the Quinoa Salad for the rest of the trip.)
Okay, dude. You made me laugh out loud. And that almost never happens. This is the SECOND Quinoa story I’ve read today. Did they do this shit to us on purpose? To provide us with blog fodder?
Fodder. It almost sounds like poo.
And I’ve been there. Lord, how I’ve been there. Quinoa = beer cheese soup, in my case. Except (spoiler) I didn’t make it. 🙂
Thanks for sharing. It was great meeting you.
That was my goal: Make ODNT LOL.
The quinoa salad was deceptively delicious. It was all a plan, I am sure of it.
It was great to meet you, too!
Suddenly, I’m very glad the quinoa ended up as an outfit accessory resulting in strangers wiping my ass. Better out than tis in, as my grandmother would say. I don’t think I’ve ever read so many poo/pooing euphamisms is one spot before. Thank you for that. Myabe your blog tagline should read, “Your one-stop poo shop” or something.
Thanks for the laugh!
I’m a big fan of poo talk. It’s why my husband married me. He would deny this, but don’t take his word for it.
Miracle Boy from the Hilton needs some kind of award for getting us into the service elevator. Dude appeared out of nowhere at the MOST desperate of times. I was really thinking about throwing myself down 40 flights of stairs and grabbing as many of you girls as I could to stop drop and roll down with me. Thank God it didn’t turn to that. Miracle Boy is Hilton’s VIP employee in my eyes.
The sheer panic in they eyes of Furry prompted me to sing REM’s Everybody Hurts but the cold beads of sweat gathering on your brown made me change the words to Everybody Poops instead…I just wanted you to know it was ok if you had some leakage. Thank God your rectal muscles are gold medal worthy.
Girls, those 20 minutes of elevator horror were some of the best 20 minutes of my entire weekend!
Love,
DG
*gathering on your brow, that is, not brown…no pun intended. cheers!
OMG…I caught the ‘brown’ and laughed out loud again. SOOOO FUN-NAYYYY
Your “Everybody Hurts” made my hurt in the best way possible.
I only want to get stuck in elevators with all of you from now on. Deal?
ERMAHGERD… I’ve been hanging out over on thebeardediris.com today. I just sent Iris an email telling her what she’s done – now you get the same treatment.
Chuckling,snorting, tears rolling down my cheeks laughing SO hard… except I’m at work… IN A LIBRARY.
Thank you for a seriously awesome laugh.
P.S. I’m glad you made it.
I like to liven up libraries. Mission? Accomplished.
Great recap. Now I understand the short and surprising reply, “I need to poop,” to my text, “Are you changing for the CAYA party.”
Have I EVER sent you such a short text? Things were dire, my friend. Dire.
I’m with the Goddess – being trapped in an elevator with a hyperventilating Iris and a sweaty, clenching Kim was by far the highlight of my weekend (along with the Goddess and Belle softly talking everyone off their respective ledges – I just alternated smiling uncomfortably and glaring at the women with the enormous bag shoved in my gut. It was as if they’d never seen a group of women freak out in an elevator before. Sheesh.) I’m so glad you wrote this, or else I would have and I’m not sure my version would have seen you get back to your room in time. Artistic license and that shit. We are bonded now and you can’t break that kind of bond. You’re stuck with us now. Deal. – Punchy
I’m stuck with you? Ooooohhh NO. YOU’re stuck with ME. Bwah! Ah! AHHHH!!!!!
Oh how funny, great times. If I pooped my pants, I think I would cry. Seriously. Loved this story, I’m so glad everyone had a big time, and no one shat their britches.
Especially since I was wearing a thong at the time. That would have been DOUBLY gross. Talk about split definitives…
Are you kidding me? I am so jealous of all of it. Anal kegels? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Though I don’t need them because of my lifelong constipation situation. Next time I am riding the elevator with you.
Stick with me, kid, I’m all about the S-shaped shits and smooth moves.
OMG! Thank you for that. I have had some major stomach issues since doing the HCG diet…and I have lived this experience one too many times. One time with my poor kiddos in tow- in a public restroom. Its great to hear that others have had their own dates with the porcelain god and the timing didn’t match. My children are scarred for life. The 3yr old asked the other day when we pulled up to my moms, “mommy are we here because you have to go the bathroom?” I guess I have stopped one too many times in a panic.
NExt time I’ll pay better attention to my bowels rather than focus on getting free toys I could have bought on the way home. Silly me!
“bringing The Brown Family to the Porcelain Pool” LMAO! How do you come up with this? Bowing to your comedic greatness.
You’ve never heard that? Come ON, where do you live? A cave? That’s a more common one. I came up with Turtle Peek-A-Poo, which I am particularly proud of.
I can either choose to come up with ways to phrase “I gotta poop” creatively, or do the dishes & laundry. I think we can both agree how my time is best spent.
OMG, I had an IBS anxiety attack just reading this.
My apologies to you and whatever underpants you were wearing at the time.
BAAAHAHAHAHA!!! I follow Punch and Goddess and congratulations…you are now on my list!!! Love those ladies and I can see you are going to give me mucho laughs! As a SAHM I need laughs often, all day long!!! 🙂
Punchy & Goddess are like a Dream Team of awesomeness and I can fit both of them in my carry-on luggage at the same time. Which is convenient, should we ever vacation together.
I had a recent experience. Only it started in the car on the way to Target and my husband wouldn’t stop said “you can go when we get to there.” I started deep breathing and my terrible childred started laughing. I told them they weren’t going to laugh when I crapped my pants in the car and made them stay in there with me. Then we finally got the store and I ran like an Olympian (only fat and sweaty) to the bathroom only to find that there were only two stall working and there was a line. I stood there for a little while and then started to cry a little and finally someone let me cut line.
Whenever in that situation, either run for the men’s room or scream “I am about to shit my pants. Could I please have cutsies?” Either one should work.
I don’t think I can ever ride an elevator again without you, Goddess, Punchy, and Belle to keep me safe and (relatively) sane. All we wanted was a motherfucking Hot Wheels car. What we got instead was, without a doubt, the second most horrifying experience of my life. And so yes, now we ARE bonded forever.
And turtle peekaboo? As if you could make me love you any MORE. Brilliant. Is it too early for me to nominate this piece for Voice of the Year 2013?
Turtle Peek-A-Poo is a favorite of mine. Not to experience, but when I wrote it I realized how effed up it was in all the very best ways, and hoped someone would appreciate it.
I knew I could count on you, my lovely little Furry bird.
Sitting at my desk at work laughing so hard that tears are rolling down my face!
The best way to be at work! 😉
Oh great, pooping in an elevator was going to be MY bonding thing at BlogHer next year – now it’s just going to seem derivative.
ditto Hollow Tree Ventures.
I can’t decide which blogging gold is best in this whole post!! I’d say I’m jealous, but I too have had to practice anal kegels at times that were horrifyingly close to a scene out of Bridesmaids. But you, YOU, make it all better in my mind. I will always think of you when I’m rushing to the bathroom to drop a deuce. Oh, wait- turtle pokey.
xoxo
I am already associated with hemorrhoidectomies, anal surgery and S-shaped poops. I’ll add dropping a deuce in a hurry to my resume as well now. Thanks!
Sorry to ruin it for you. Maybe you could pee on someone’s lap instead…?
May I say, this is NOT the story you want to read when you are recovering from hemorrhoid surgery! I, too, had to engage in anal kegals while reading this. (My 13 year old can recount a horrifyingly similar story that happened to me while driving to a hotel in Tulsa, and she likes to bring it up every time we’re there.) Shout out to Goddess for posting this link. Count me as a new fan!
Awwww…your poor tushie! I read funny stuff after my last anal surgery (yes, you read that correctly. in December I had anal surgery, my 2nd hemorrhoidectomy & a colonoscopy…I’m all about the Back Door Biz), and it was a BIG mistake. Go take a warm sitz bath and pop some pain meds. I’ll be here when you’re feeling better!
Thank you for this. Really. Now I don’t feel so bad for sneeze-peeing myself while trying to get back on the train that I accidentally got off of a stop too early.
Sneeze-peeing happens to everyone – no worries! On Monday I accidentally dumped the contents of my urine specimen cup all over myself & my clothes at the doctor’s office. YUM.
You actually made me laugh so hard my spawn came running in to see what was so funny!!! I too suffer from gut issues – I can tell you where every single, even the nasty ones, bathroom is in our town…..and sometimes…when on a run….a bathroom is a corn field or a forested ditch. Yup….another reason to never eat corn again…..
I’m glad you had fun – I can’t wait to see what you write next!!!!
Broccoli was not my friend for a very long time, around my whole butt-surgery issues back in December. Broccoli & corn, two of my favorite vegetables…gone from my diet for almost a year. SIGH. it was a sad time.
Oh my! I laughed so hard! This is something that happens to me. The last time I had to pull over on the highway on the way to Boston and poop on the side of the road…I thought I could go deeper in the woods on the side of the road but there was a big fence!! WTF? I didn’t care at that point and I used napkins from Dunkin’ Donuts to wipe (too much information?)
Oh. My. GOD. Pooping on the side of the road is one thing, but not being able to be out of sight of the drivers is another! lol
I was laughing so hard at this i had to follow you right to the end. You dealt with an uncomfortable situation better than I would have. Kudos to grace & humor under (intestinal) pressure.
You know what they say: with friends like these, who needs enemas
That was the best comment sign-off in the history of the world. EVER.
I was on my phone when I read this, and that thing is a complete SOB about comments. Anyway, your near turtle peek-a-boo incident nearly made me go code… well, not the shade of yellow up there on your chart, right?
We ALL know what the Turtle Peek-A-Poo is. Which is what makes it even funnier. In a totally gross way.
ANAL KEGELS. I swear I’ma die. I think I started reading faster once y’all were in the elevator and that made it funnier, with fast music in my head. Will she make it? Will she make it? YES!
Seriously, when you have friends who tell you in front of strangers to go on without them because otherwise you will shit yourself? Those are the friends to keep for life.
I’m going to keep them forever and always. Knowing I have people who tell me when I’m gonna shit? A beautiful thing.
You must be a very fine writer, because you just made me wish I were in an elevator where someone is having a panic attack and someone is pooping her pants.
I have that effect on people ALL THE TIME.
Omg. Seriously funny sh*t. No pun intended. Or was it? 😉
You guys are definitely bonded for life…and are all on my “stalker” list too. BlogHer’13, babay. I’m going to meet you all and at least shake your hands (as long as you’ve washed them). 🙂
I’m off to make a deposit in the porcelain bank. (Love the turtle peek-a-poo myself)
Come find us in BlogHer13: We’ll be the ones using the stairs.
I had to come back to write because I was laughing so hard! After having 4 kids and being vegan I definitely feel for you. Thanks so much for the laughs
Ahhh…so you understand! And your link shows your last post as being about balsamic roasted peppers: yet another thing I ate the day before, which was fighting its way out.
That was one looong elevator ride. Glad you made it to safety.
I’ve never seen the elevators take so long. Blech. Next time, I will refuse to ride them without a clean & clear colon.
How do I say this?
It was amazing to meet you at blogger and get to spend so much time together BUT I am so glad not a second of our time was spend in a bathroom, near an elevator or over quinoa salad.
And I have forever substituted a picture of you trying to reach your leg behind your head in the lobby bar for your avatar.
I must say, it was great to meet you in civil circumstances at dinner, when we could talk. I’m glad that part came before the leg-behind-the-head incident at the bar. Good first impressions, and all that.
And all the time there was the Serenity Suite just down the hall with a perfectly usable (most of the time) bathroom!
Please tell me I did not read this correctly. Because then I almost pooped my pants for no reason. NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Man, I love “flop sweat.” I keep hearing it this week. Must be the humidity.
Maybe it is National Flop Sweat Week? Which would be rather unfortunate, but a good explanation.
Love the caption.
Thanks, babe.
You’re #1! You’re #1! You’re #1!
Featuring you tomorrow at Finding the Funny!
I KNEW almost pooping in my thong would work out in the end.
(get it? “work out IN THE END”?? oooohhhh….man….the hilarity never ceases)
Oh Shit! That was absolutely hands down hilarious! (pun intended) I’m sorry these things happened to you all but man it makes for a great story!
Dazed and Creative recently posted What is Sexy
Crap! I’m having trouble with linking and stuff…forgive me! I posted a funny on funny not slutty! Look me up over there;-)
Thanks for coming by!
How, oh how, can you so wittyingly describe crapping your pants in so many creatively different ways (“colon purge”, “Turtle Peek-a-Poo incident”, “bringing The Brown Family to the Porcelain Pool”), all in one post? In awe of your greatness, genius blogger!
I am a fan of over-doing it. I’m glad someone appreciated it!
I think I’d like that to be my new warning: I’m about to shit my pants……. Think of the power this would yield. It could be my new “i’m about to lose the last bit of patience i have if you don’t hurry up” Now I can just say “I’m about to shit my pants, now get on with it before I do!’
I must say, everyone else’s priorities shift when you’re about to take a public shit. Your plan may just work.
Holy crap, woman!
That is one of the WORST feelings in the entire universe. Am I the only one who gets REALLY anxious about that kind of stuff? I’d be having the panic attack PLUS having to potty.
I think I love you. You’re fucking hilarious. Although I may never want to use the bathroom after you after reading this!
Don’t worry, I’m a vegetarian. it’s not like I explode, or anything. I’m a perfect “S” or “C”, just like Oprah & Dr. Oz recommends. 😉
WOW! Not really sure how I missed this one – tears are streaming down my face and I think I need to go poop now…. Yall are cra-cra and I may start a blog, even though I suck at writing, just so I can go to the BlogHer conference cause that just sounds like a blast and a half!
It was a hoot, I’m not gonna lie! It’s a definite perk to being an over-thinking weird writerly type.