Spring Break

This is a classic tale that ends just as it began. I was 21 and five days. I was set to head down to a classy Spring Break at Daytona Beach, Florida. I had been home for a few days in Ohio and my friends were to pick me up along their way down from Chicago. As my father was bringing me to the drop-off point, I felt a familiar feeling...The gurgles. The impending doom in my stomach compelled me to direct the car to the nearest exit. I hurried through a Wal-Mart, past the kiddie carousel and to the dirty bathroom. I shot off a few squirts in the bathroom and thought I was ready to go. We pulled back on the highway. I felt the pains again. I thought I could relieve the pressure with a gas release. Unfortunately, there was more than just natural gas in the pipes. I clenched the butt cheeks together as tightly as possible and requested a U-turn to the familiar Wal-Mart. As a territorial creature, I headed to the same stall I had just soiled and shared more of my innards with the bowl. This time, I stocked up on some Pepto-Bismol to help me survive the 9 hours of driving we had ahead for ourselves. I could go on to describe the watery deposits I left at various restaurants, gas stations and stores along the way. Or how annoyed my friends were. But instead, I fast forward to the excitement of Daytona Beach. Having survived my bouts with the squirts, I was ready to partay! The drink du jour was Red Bull and Vodka. It tastes so good, and gives you energy while you drink. Unfortunately, it also gave me something else: the shitz. In case you were unaware, nightclub bathrooms in Daytona Beach aren't exactly hygienic. The horrible rumblings in my stomach were unending and the trips to the bathrooms were constant. Nothing really comedic here, just a good old fashioned moral: Red Bull can and most likely will trigger the 'rhea.