There was a time in my past when I competed in pageants. For all the criticism that people have, I can vouch for the scholarships, friendships, and self-improvement skills. I was able to pay for my first two years of college with pageant scholarships, and learned how to ace an interview. And one of my besties, I’ll call her Jane for her safety, was found during a pageant event. Not to mention, it is just fun to play dress up.

This is a story about one time I competed in Texas, and my friend Lea decided to come along and support me. Before the actual competition, we found out that Lea was pregnant. I gave her a chance to back out but she was unfaltering in her support. In hindsight, I imagine she wishes she hadn’t gone. Leah is not a huge fan of flying anyway, and though flying while pregnant did turn her stomach, she was a great sport. We shared a room and did all the activities together. It was wonderful to have her there.

Things quickly deteriorated as they often do when we are together. For some reason, my bowels kept acting up. Gosh such a surprise. It started one night when I farted so loudly I woke myself up. Finding it terribly amusing, I started to laugh especially since I hadn’t woken Lea up with my magnificent feat. I really needed to share. Of course as she is waking and I am laughing, I continue to expel lovely musical notes of nefarious aroma. Poor girl.

Well, things just continued to decline into a rather embarrassing run, literally, of intestinal mishaps. Next day, a small stomach gurgle rapidly changes into a liquidy river of fun trying to escape my back end. I clench my cheeks with not only my sphincter, but also my hands, desperately pushing my buns together as I run/waddle to the nearest bathroom. She’s beauty and she’s grace. She’s Miss Pernicious States.

But the coup de gras occurred one morning when we had a little free time and decided to hang out by the pool and enjoy the wonderful weather. Now my stomach was rumbling, perhaps from the previous nights meal of beans, and I knew that what would come out would not be pleasant. So I encouraged Lea to go to the pool and I would catch up with her. After she left, I proceeded to unleash some of the foulest smelling ordure you can imagine. I couldn’t wait to get out of the bathroom. I was hoping some of it would dissipate before housekeeping came, because I didn’t want to injure them.

About this time, Lea comes strolling back into the room. Making sure the bathroom door is securely shut, hopefully harnessing the stench, I ask what she is doing back. And to my horror, she says she just came back to take out her contact lenses. Her supplies were in the bathroom. I try to dissuade her and finally had to confess my malodorous sin. At this point I feel I have relieved my self of any responsibility for this offense. She proceeded with full informed consent.

So as I slink in shame, she marches into the bathroom, and then quickly emerges gagging and gasping for air. She gives me the stink eye, but returns to the den of repulsion because she really wants to get her contact lenses out. But the smell is so bad her eyes are watering and she can’t get them. She is gagging and crying and laughing, but no matter how hard she tries, she can’t get them out. Mind you the only mirror is located in the bathroom. I’m pretty sure she is traumatizing the baby.

Since the fetid odor hasn’t dissipated at all, she has to give up and take them out sitting on the bed. About this time, we hear housekeeping rattling in the hall. We both make a dash out the patio door, hoping that when we return housekeeping has not been reduced to a choking body on the floor. Some of the odor wafted outside with us and followed us to the pool. We decide the safest course of action was to walk around a little before settling down, and played innocent to all the victims with their horrified faces and scrunched noses.

Luckily, the room was clean and odor free upon our return. I shudder to think the tales that housekeeping told about that one. Fortunately the event did not reoccur with the same vigor that trip because I’m sure Lea would have gotten her own room. But I still don’t understand why she was so upset later that same night when I tried to have three helpings of beans. They are a musical fruit.