We’ve all been there. Sooner or later it will happen to you if you use a public toilet on a regular basis.
Early in our expediting career, we took a load of freight to a business in southern Tennessee. We drove all night and delivered first thing in the morning. As is our usual routine, we headed to the nearest truck stop to use the restroom and then try to catch a nap before the next load comes in.
I headed for the restroom to conduct my morning business and when I enter, there are three toilet stalls. The first was occupied, the second and third handicap were not. I chose door number two and settled in.
Suddenly I hear the restroom door burst open and make out the sound of someone practically sprinting through the room to the handicap stall. A frantic struggle ensued as the poor fella feverishly worked to get his garments out of the line of fire.
A moment later I hear him take a seat and what followed was, in its own bizarre way, impressive. The poor fella grunted once and let loose a truly massive amount of gas followed by that sweet sweet sigh of relief. Then he got down to business.
While this is all transpiring, the restroom door opened and someone else, who we would in short order, find out was an acquaintance of Mr. Massive Flatulence. After a fit of laughter and apparently concerned with the well-being of his buddy, he fired off some rapid-fire Spanish which I was unable to decipher (knew I should have taken that third year of Spanish in high school). Mr. MF’s response was hilarious.
He addressed his friend in Spanish as well except for three words: “four bean chili” then proceeded to drop another massive bomb.
It was too much. His friend cracked up. I lost it. Even the guy in the first stall was laughing out loudly as the poor fella finished with a bang.
It may be childish and gross, but I’ll always remember the backlash of the four bean chili. It’s the stuff from which legends are made.
