I Took A Dump In A Movie Theater Once...

Listening to a David Sedaris book on tape this morning, I knew my love for him had only grown stronger. I had the privilege of meeting Dave (let's pretend we're on a first name basis) about a month ago at a local book signing. Run down with a case of laryngitis, Dave came up to the podium and explained that he wanted to save his voice for the reading. "So when you come up to get your book signed, I want you to tell me a story about breast milk or shitting your pants," he said.

I could barely contain my excitement at this announcement. I knew very little about breast milk, and hope to keep it that way for several years, but as luck would have it, I had a perfect shit-in-pants story.

I'd like to begin by stating that I usually have very ordinary bathroom experiences. Mundane, even. That being said, I, Lauren B., have shit in my pants.

Vacationing in Deep Creek, MD with my family at the tender age of eleven, my younger brother and I decided to go see Jungle 2 Jungle at the movie theater. I wasn't feeling particularly well that afternoon, but the movie trailers hinted at the possibility of young love. Ever the hopeless romantic, this was enough for me to get out of bed.

My parents dropped us off at the theater and went a few doors down to see The Mirror Has Two Faces starring Babs Streisand. Fifteen minutes into Jungle 2 Jungle, something just didn't feel right. Pushing away some stomach troubles, I tried to focus on the masterpiece unfolding. But God had other plans for me that day.

Halfway through the film, I came to the sudden realization that I had to immediately find a bathroom. I jumped up in my seat, ready to make a mad dash to the restroom. But it was too late. A once dignified and respectable young woman, I had just become the girl who shit her pants in a movie theater.

My face a mix of horror, disbelief and some slight cramping, I told my brother to get my mom and ran to the bathroom in tears. Lucikly, the load in my pants was self-contained. It was bad enough that I had to miss precious moments of Jungle 2 Jungle, but the thought of some hazmat crew shutting down the theater to clean up after me would have been too much to take.

Hiding in one of the bathroom stalls, I cried quietly until my mom came in. "Hand me your underwear," she said.

To this day, I'm deeply disturbed and apologetic to the general public for the events that followed. Handing over my Hanes, I watched in disgust as my mother washed them in the bathroom sink. The same bathroom sink where innocent, naive moviegoers would wash their hands for years to come. Some of them may have even contracted hepatitis or some other terrible, feces-transmitted disease, though I'll never know for sure.

After a few minutes of scrubbing and soaking, my mother shook her head. "I can't save them, Lauren. It's not worth it." She balled them up and tossed them into the trashcan. "You're just going to have to wear your pants until we get home."

Still crying, I followed my mom into the lobby, where my brother and father were waiting. Climbing into the van, I was forced to sit on a plastic Food Lion grocery bag. "Just in case you have another accident," my mom said.

Later that summer, I shit my pants again while taking a leisurely stroll around my neighborhood. I thought running would get me to the bathroom faster. Turns out the gravity only sped up the process. Once again, it was too late. 1997 was not kind to me.

Relaying this information to David Sedaris, I stood there anxiously awaiting his repsonse. "Wow," he finally whispered, his voice raspy and strained. "That's....embarrassing." He looked more disturbed than amused and I quickly grabbed my book and moved through the line.

I haven't shit my pants since the summer of 1997. I haven't watched Jungle 2 Jungle in its entirety, either. Perhaps I will rent the Disney flic this weekend, if only to see whether or not those two crazy kids hooked up at the end.

And if I once again shit my pants, this time as a full-fledged adult, on a sofa that doesn't belong to me, I'll take it in stride.

At least it's a good story.