Nepal 66: My Second Great Shit Story

I slept fitfully in Ulleri—my stomach was bothering me. I kept waking, in starts, to my stomach bubbling, or gas escaping.

It was cold outside—we were in a trekking lodge in an elevated mountain village, after all—and I didn’t much want to get out of bed. I was cocooned in a cheap sleeping bag I’d rented in Pokhara, but it was cozy enough, especially after an exhaustive day of trekking. I wasn’t going to leave until I had to.

Every time I woke up, I’d have a little swig of water, and try to go back to bed. By the third or fourth time it happened, it was getting exasperating. I really wanted to get some rest, especially if tomorrow was going to be as strenuous as our first day had been.

The fifth time I awoke, I immediately knew something was different.

Did that—I paused, moved around a bit. Yup, I thought to myself. That just happened.

I had, without a doubt, just shit my pants.

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