WARNING: Please don't read the following blog if you gag easily or like eating at Chilli's.
With so many travel days in our itinerary one of them is bound to be the worst. This specific travel day consisted of a nine-hour 1000KM drive from the city of Tours to Nice in southeastern France. Even if the day went as planned with no hiccups it was still going to be exhausting. However, we were very excited to go to Nice and spend some time in the beautiful French Riviera. The night before our departure we went out for a few drinks to send off one of Court’s best friends that had been traveling with us for the past five days. After a few oversized beers and a cheese rich pizza we headed back to the hotel to get some rest before our early morning departure.
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| This seemed like such a good idea at the time |
The morning came quick, but it did not come alone. At around 7 AM, when Court and I were in the cafeteria I started feeling some stomach pain. I brushed it off and headed for the refrigerator to grab a yogurt and a cheese platter. I remember thinking there was no way I was going to miss out on our cheap 4 Euro breakfast! Three seconds after I take my first spoonful of yogurt my stomach pain becomes a full-blown emergency! I quickly excuse myself from the table and tell Court I will be back in a few minutes. A few minutes became thirty minutes. The beer, pizza and yogurt combination was a little too much for my body to handle. After bombarding our bathroom on two occasions (after the first attempt I thought I was done, but then had to go for more) I thought I was ready to hit the road.
One hour and 100 KM into our drive I started feeling those same stomach pains again. I thought to myself “ Really? How can there be any left?” “There is no way, I went twice in the hotel.” I focus and decide that I would pull over into the first exit I saw. 10KM go by and then another 10KM, and no sings of a rest area or an exit. The pain comes and goes, but every time it comes back it gets worse. I start to sweat profusely and tell Courtney that I needed her to be quiet and turnoff the music. I needed to be totally focused on the drive and on my seating position. A slight move or applying unnecessary pressure to my abs would have been like pulling the trigger on a fully automatic water machine gun. Another 20 KM go by and there is no freaking exit! I start cursing the French and wishing I were driving on an American highway. Things are feeling worse, but there was just no way I was going to go in my pants. I ask Court to please have the toilet paper ready and handy as soon as I pulled over. This was going to be a quick operation with no room for error. I pull over on the shoulder, get out of the car, and barely make it over the side rail before finding a nice set of bushes clamming for my fertilizer. I squatted and took care of business. I couldn’t help it, but I had to look at what had just come out. WARNING - If you are a Chili’s fan I would not read the next sentence. To give you an idea of what I was going through, it looked like Chili’s Skillet Queso Dip. After seeing that I will never eat there again! (maybe you won't either) To top it off, Courtney was laughing and taking pictures of me!
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| Say Cheese! |
We get back on the road and I am feeling a lot better. Forty minutes later I see an exit and ponder if I should stop quickly just to make sure everything has been taken care of. I think about it and decide to keep going since we had already lost too much time. BIG MISTAKE!!! Soon after we pass the exit the stomach pain comes back. Of course there is no way to turn back and the next exit is 80KM away. I handle the pain for the next 10KM, but it is getting unbearable. To my great relief I see a rest area and pull in. With my left over toilet paper I speed walk to the men's rest room. There is one stall and of course it is occupied. I am in pain and things are about to blow up. I walk over the women's bathroom and one of the stalls is available, yes!!! The stall was absolutely miserable, smelly, gross. There was toilet paper all over the floor and there was none in the dispenser. I didn't have enough in my hand to cover the toilet seat either. Once again I had to squat and put to the test my already weakened thighs. I knew nothing pretty could come out of this. Two blasts came out and just like that it was over. Again I had to look. Amazing, I did a Jackson Pollock! I felt great and relieved. I turned to flush the toilet and OF COURSE the toilet didn't flush. As I exited the stall there stood a French grandma waiting patiently to use the facilities. I quickly walk past her with my head hung in shame barely making eye contact. I make a run for the safety of the car. Literally, less than twenty seconds later grandma is walking back to her car. As she passes my car she looks at me and gives me the most disgusted look I had ever seen. I look at her and mumble the words "I am sorry."
The drive to paradise felt more like a drive to hell. A nine hour drive took over twelve hours. Worse part is that we get to Nice and the lady we had rented the apartment from forgot that we were coming. While I waited in the car and blocked traffic for 20 minutes, Courtney had to sneak herself into an apartment building and knock on multiple apartments until she finally found the landlord. On the positive side of things, the week only got better from there on!
