My Battle with the Tripple Cheese Hot Dog

 Here is a tale of what happens when someone who is lactose-intolerant and doesn't agree much with beef/pork products eats something that has lots of both.

Earlier this year, my buddy Matt and I went to Kansas City to pick up Nancy from the air port. We get her, and offer to go to the mall. Since she's been sitting in an airplane all day, she accepts.

We get there, and mostly just wander around. Before we leave we decide to get something to eat, so we go to the mall cafeteria. I look around, examining my options, and notice that one stand is selling foot long hotdogs with three different cheeses on them. "Well, that just sounds DELICIOUS!" I think to myself. So I get it, and eat it quickly, as I am quite hungry. Matt and Nancy finish, and we head back home.

About 15 minutes later, I realize the error of my decision. I inform the car that stopping by a gas station would be a good idea for everyone involved. So we stop by the nearest Casey's and I casually meander to the bathroom. I set about doing my business, and a couple of minutes later, someone is pounding on the door. He sounds to be in quite a hurry. I tell him it'll be a few minutes, which just leads to him pounding harder, as if I couldn't hear him the first time. So I give in, and let him have the bathroom. "Sure, I'll be able to make it until we get home." Oh, how wrong I was.

After about another 20 minutes on the road, my bowels have reached Red Alert. I politely inform the car that if we don't pull over again soon, a horrible act of unholy vengeance will visit the interior. Luckily, we are pulling into Cameron. More luckilier, there is a hotel near. I ask if they wouldn't mind enjoying the scenery of the outside while I go and give birth to the Antichrist. They accept my offer.

I get inside the hotel, spot their lobby bathroom, and basically just explode. I won't give every single detail, but I will tell the after affects. By the time I was done, I was sweating from head to toe, my stomach was cramping, my mouth was watering for some reason (it did smell pretty tasty in there, I have to admit), my eyes were watering, and the tip of my penis hurt. That last part is what troubled me the most. It makes no sense to me. But I digress. After about 45 minutes of unbridled terror, I am able to walk away, feeling like an entirely new person. I've never had a religious experience, but if it's anything like that, I understood, at that moment, why people enjoy them. I exit the hotel while trying not to make eye contact with the clerk, enter the car, and enjoy the rest of the ride home.

The moral of my story is: If you know you can't handle certain food products, don't eat them before embarking on an hour plus car ride. Although, that triple cheese hot dog was so damn good. I can see myself making that mistake again.