Hamilton Was So Good I Actually Shit Myself

I am not throwing away my shot, but my shit is another story.

A few weekends ago, I had the ultimate pleasure of seeing Hamilton.

My best friend and I realized that as of 2018, we had been friends for 15 years. Or rather, we had not killed each other for 15 years. To celebrate, I got us tickets to see her favorite musical, Hamilton. We planned a day of it- dinner, dessert, the whole 9 yards to celebrate.

The days leading up to the show were stressful for me for a number of different reasons. One of the side effects of me being stressed is my inability to eat normal meals. Instead, I snack inconsistently, just enough to sustain my body. I had been surviving off a diet consisting of black coffee, carb-based snacks, and carelessness for my body.

Saturday rolled around and as I scrambled to pull myself together before the show and make some veritable attempt at looking like a lady, I too had forgotten to eat. Rushing into my car (really my loaner car, one of the reasons I was so stressed), I grabbed a large canned coffee and hastily made my way into the city in the midst of a torrential downpour.

I arrived at the restaurant early, just early enough to sneak a pre-meal appetizer. I was strangely ravenous- more hungry than I can remember being prior that week. I was on a hunt for food and was ready to feast.  Scanning the decadent menu, I settled on the duck liver ravioli. So. Good.

Lexi eventually arrived and we went to town on dinner- a cheese plate, Sunday gravy, truffled mac and cheese, a ginger beer and fig mocktail for myself, and rich chocolate cake to finish. I hadn’t eaten that well in a while, let alone a full meal. I indulged myself in every sense, and left the restaurant feeling fat, happy, and, oh wait, a little gassy?

Walking over to the opera house, my stomach began to contour itself and gurgle and rumble inside me.

“Lexi, how much longer of a walk” I stated flatly.

“Uhmm about 3 more minutes?”

“Ok, because I think I might shit myself” Droplets of cool sweat began to pool on my forehead. My spanx constricted me, well more than normal at least.

“What…”

“Yeah dude, I’m about to pull a full-on Bridesmaids and run into downtown crossing because I have got to go”

“Ok well hang tight, we’re almost there”

We arrived, and after passing through security I made my beeline to the bathrooms where nothing happened. Nothing at all. I brushed it off as me just over dramatic and excited.

I found Lexi waiting at our seats, and the show began. As the curtain rose so did my stomach, flipping around and churning more than earlier.

Will they know what you overcame?….

Oh god.

I’m getting nervous…..

Yeah same.

I’m young, scrappy and hungry…..

DEFINITELY not hungry. Nope, not hungry.

Helpless, baby, Down for the count, and I’m drownin’ in ’em…..

I NEED HELP AND A BATHROOM STAT.

Most disputes die, and no one shoots…

Ohhhhhhhhh nooooooooooo I’m gunna toot

The world turned upside down….

Oh like my stomach?

I am not throwin’ away my shot….

I HAVE GOT TO SHIT

As soon as that last line hit and the curtain dropped I sprinted to the bathroom. I weaved my way in and out of other bathroom goers trying my best to maintain composure and urgency. I finally made it to the bathroom and claimed a stall as my own and got to work (work).  I returned to a very concerned and alarmed Lexi, and explained that I was at Defcon 5 in terms of emergency bathroom breaks. 

“Why didn’t you go when it got worse?!”

“Because,” I said matter of factly, “I wasn’t going to miss Hamilton.

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