Disclosure, this story refers to to a horrendous nomad experience that just happened to occur at Three Valley Gap in Revelstoke, British Columbia Canada. This writer as well as the nomad that had the unfortunate experience both highly recommend visiting Three Valley Gap for their ghost tours, unique history and one of a kind train collection.
Chrissy, awoken abruptly from a mid afternoon nap to find her husband silhouetted in the bedroom door of the hotel room they had just arrived to that morning, water pooling around his ankles. Brown rivulets of water trickling down his legs from his sopping wet shorts.
“Mark, did you go swimming in the lake”?
“No Chrissy, I sh*t my pants”!
And now, to back up a little…
Earlier that day, upon arriving at the majestic and revered getaway, the couple decided to have a bite to eat before deciding on the days activities. They, ahem, may of also indulged in several rich chocolate edibles… not the Russel Stover type at all. Let’s just call the “special brownies”.
Mark had visited Three Valley Gap as a child and it was a happy memory, filled with wonder that sparked his young, curious mind (The original owner had built his own power generating station after BC Hydro refused his request for additional power!) As an adult he had looked for reasons several times to visit the out of the way curiosity and finally now he had.
After a lunch in the hotels dining room, Chrissy decided to take a nap as the special brownies were a little too much for her(and Mark ate even more than she did!) and Mark to explore a bit.
Mark set off on his solo adventure, hopeful that his memories were not flawed and the train collection was as big as his memory served it. Walking across the common grounds however he felt an unmistakable cramp in his stomach… he needed to go to the bathroom. He was close to the hotel room, but did not want to intrude on his wife’s nap so he headed off across the huge resort to the main gift shop where he assumed bathrooms would be found.
His steps became more hurried as a cold sweat broke out across his brow. He really had to go.. the slight urge had turned into a massive, uncontrollable beast that was ripping his innards in a way to escape.
Barely speaking coherently he asked the unhurried clerk where the washrooms were. In a slow drawl she explained two facilities around the corner across from the shop. Squeezing his sphincter muscles tightly and running as best he could in a ramrod straight, pigeon toed shuffle, he made it to the doors just to find both the men’s and women’s bathrooms were locked and occupied. Rushing back, the sweat now dripping off his brow he asked in a strangled voice where the next closest bathrooms were. The same unhurried clerk gave an answer that seemed to take hours but in reality was likely 30 seconds, but felt like eternity.
Running, shoving people out of his way and repeating in his head silently “please don’t sh*t, please don’t sh*t he made his way to the busy hotel lobby. Two barely out of their teens staff stood talking behind the desks and just as Mark rushed past them in his tunnel-vision search of the bathrooms he felt his will give way….
Like a freight train, some things cannot be stopped. Sh*tting his pants while still in mid-stride, he ran through the lobby, rounding the corner and slamming into the vacant bathroom. Too bad a toilet was not really necessary anymore.
Taking inventory, Mark was pragmatic. He had to do something. He could not walk back across the turd-scented lobby without attempting to clean and he had no extra clothes or way to notify his wife of his disaster.
So like any good boyscout, he used what he had and tried to make do.
Wiping his 6’4 man sized ass with whatever paper towels the thoughtful hotel had stocked, he got rid of some of the mess… but not all. Stripping to only a t-shirt he debated throwing his underwear, shorts, socks and shoes all in the hotel garbage and making a b-line to his room with only his belly button length blue superman vintage t-shirt but quickly scrapped that plan.
Using the hotel sink and the remaining papertowels, a few socks and good old scrubbing and rinsing, the worst of the damage was either thrown in the waste paper basket or drained down the sink. Donning his foul smelling shorts that could likely of made the ghosts of Three Valley Gap rise, he took one last glance around his surroundings.
Saying a silent prayer for the poor teens that would be tasked with cleaning up the now sh*t splattered bathroom he left to face his wife.
Holding his head high, swishing across the lobby, pretending it was someone else that smelled like a 50 year old outhouse he made it to his room, throwing open the door, startling his wife awake and laughing uproariously as his wife asked if he’d been swimming.
“No Chrissy, I sh*t my pants”
Submitted by anonymous
Written and Edited by Melisa Scheltgen of @RollinWithTheTumbleweeds