Tag: intestine

  • embarrassing van ride

    One time some co-workers and I loaded ourselves into a van and went on a 28-hour cross-country trip to see a friend of ours get married. Since I would be one of the drivers, I decided to sleep in the back bench seat. During one of the stops before I was to drive, I decided to eat some grapes, because I didn’t want to have anything upset my stomach while trying to rest. Little did I know that they would cause one of the biggest cases of gas I have ever experienced in my life. Here I was, getting back into the van, ready to put my head down, when all of a sudden, a huge surge of gas rushed down into my lower intestine. I tensed up, and saved myself from obvious embarrassment. Seconds later, round two of gas surged into my gut. Then quickly came number three, and then number four. My lower intestine was imitating a balloon. I was getting bigger and bigger and bigger. A few minutes later, somewhere between surge number eight and ten, I let loose a small amount of gas. Quicker than I could think, “I wonder if anyone noticed?” the guy sitting in the seat in front of me cried out, “Oh man! Who farted?!?” I had to humbly admit that it was me. It contaminated the whole van. Everyone got a whiff. So, I had to “put a cork” in it. I was just about exploding when the van stopped to switch drivers. I had not rested at all. When we stopped, I ran for the nearest toilet. After expulsing two sonic booms, I immediately heard someone in the stall next to me get up, put on his pants, flush, and leave his stall in less than 5 seconds. Relieved, I walked slowly back to the van. It was my turn to drive. I thought I had eliminated everything, but the gas started surging in me again. This time, I was facing the stress of driving the 15-passenger van through mountain valleys and up and down major hills, having to pass slower drivers. I couldn’t let myself get so big. Never could I put up with driving that way. So, I decided to drive down the gas into the seat, hoping it would absorb the force and the stink. My nostrils searched for the stench. They found none. I got a little bolder. My seat received surge number two. Still no stink. Going up an uphill curve, my groin got fat, and again I made my seat my victim. Amazingly, I smelled nothing. As I continued to freely pass gas, reality finally hit me. About the fifth or sixth time, I just about died at the wheel because the smell was so bad. And then it suddenly dawned on me – NO ONE was resting, no one was reading, no one listening to music, and no one was chatting with anyone. I looked through the rear-view mirror. They were all looking at me, with angry looks on their faces, especially the girls. Apparently, I smelled nothing those other times because the vent blew the stink into the faces of everybody else sitting behind me. Humiliated, I had to hold it for the next couple of hours of driving. At the next stop, I let loose my last blast, and outside it still stunk. If you had asked me why I didn’t take anything to eliminate the gas, I would have told you, “I have no idea.” I went into the fast food place, and ate a big burger meal. Surprisingly, my gas stopped. I had no more for the rest of the entire trip. Go figure. Joe – MD