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     July 1998, New Orleans, Louisiana – Not understanding why the pains in my stomach were happening, all I knew were that it hurt – a lot.  Maybe it was due to the unfamiliarity with the food.  Maybe it was just the climate.
     Whatever the case, stomach pain is one of the worst pains that I feel.  People say that different people feel different pains to a certain degree.  A sprained ankle may be no big deal for me, but it could be excruciating for another person.  Thus, the same theory applies with stomach pains for me.  I could not think straight.  Other times, I could hardly keep my balance walking.  It just hurt.
     I must have seemed like I was suffering from a severe ulcer for wherever we went this week, I had to, or I should say, I should have carried some Pepcid AC with me.  That was one of my biggest requests was for antacid.
     Accompanying stomach pains was, of course, explosive diarrhea.  I have to admit – I have had some of the most explosive diarrhea attacks in some pretty neat places in New Orleans.  Here is just one.

     There we sat, Mr. Thu, his wife, his son, Liz, and me, around a small circular table at the infamous Café Du Monde, located in the French Quarters section of downtown New Orleans.  This family is a highly respected by Liz, and coincidentally, to New Orleans too.  The Thu’s place of business is a Custom Alteration and Tailor shop located in uptown New Orleans.  Their customers range anywhere from the average population, to various players of The Saints football team, to the Mayor.  Liz used to work as a tutor for their son in various classes he was attending in Junior High School at the time.
     I sat there, wearing my sparkling white Polo tennis shirt and long-legged Dockers, trying to act proper.  I was fine until about five minutes prior.  At the moment, although we were finally sitting in light air-conditioning, I still felt like I could break out in a shower of sweat if I moved too rapidly.  In addition to the overheated condition, I felt the onset of stomach pains.  Trying to keep a smile on my face, I felt the pains getting worst.  It was at this moment when the waitress came over and asked each of us what we would like to order.  Of course, this just escalated the pain.  I could feel my intestines expand.  I felt the cramping of my midsection begin.
     “Would you like coffee?”  The waitress asked.
     I thought to myself –  Coffee?  Coffee?  I did not want coffee right at this moment.  At any other time, coffee would have been a treat, but right now, the mere thought of coffee drilling through my stomach, with its acids eating away at the very flesh of my insides, did not seem very appealing to me.  Can’t you see I am in pain?  What need do I have with coffee? And said, “No, thank you.  Nothing for me.”  I eyed the sign across the room labeled, “Restroom” and excused myself.
     With my hand over my stomach, I quickly dashed over to the restroom, opened the door and to my delight, found that it was a singular room with a lock.  And, it was air-conditioned too.  Quickly, I locked the door, pulled down my long-legged Dockers, and headed for the porcelain God; ass first.  It actually echoed in there.  Quite humorous, and relieving, I found it a joy that I could control the echoing effect by my lucious bowel movements.  Before I could fully enjoy my retreat, a shameful nightmare was about to rear its ugly head.  Someone knocked on the door – twice, then three times.
     Another unfortunate aspect about stomach pains and explosive diarrheas, was the shame of witnesses and pressure.  “In here!” I yelled.  The knocking ceased.  I was not finished yet.  So, there I sat, under pressure by someone knocking on the door.  I continued to do my duty, except quieter – much quieter.  A few minutes passed, and I was not finished yet.  The knocking on the door started up again.
     “In here!” I yelled again.  The knocking stopped.
     I heard someone’s annoyed voice, “He’s been in there for a while.”
     Great.  More pressure.  I did not know what to do – more just kept coming out.  A few minutes passed and it seemed as though my stomach deflated and I felt relieved.  I finished, cleaning up quickly, I headed for the door.
     Upon opening the door, a balding man, wearing a striped shirt, peered at me annoyed.  There were four men in line after him.  I looked to the first man again and said, “Sorry.”  He just nodded.  I was sorry for making him wait, but what he did not know was that I was also sorry for what odor-ific environment he was about to enter.
 

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