Last night I stayed in a drafty old mansion in snow-covered Wisconsin.; For years the mansion was a convent for nuns, now it is the headquarters for the Dead Theologians Society. Last night I unleashed hell on that holy space.

I woke up at two in the morning for my scheduled trip to the bathroom. But this wasn’t going to be quick–I had the squirts. I’m talking “release the hounds” diarrhea. I thought I’d given the throne my all, but I woke up a half hour later to continue with the donations. This went on through the night. Over and over and over and over. Seeking a moment of solace, I leaned forward and traced a peep hole through the fogged-up window. I watched the sun rise to my own soundtrack.

After a couple hours of sleep, I vaulted out of bed for a surprise finale. I sprinted down the wooden banister and lunged towards the bathroom and threw my face into the toilet. I hurled like a fire-breather. The slosh and slop echoed through the vaulted ceilings of paradise.

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I binged on Pepto and Immodium and tried to forget the night before. I hopped in the car and we drove to an auditorium full of eager teenagers. With an hour left till the event, I sat behind the dark of the stage-curtain and prayed for peace.; Then I walked onto the stage, a reluctant suicide bomber.

After the talk we were back to the airport. My plane was delayed, so I stretched out on the cold floor and stared into the ceiling. Lord, take me home! After a two hours, our plane finally left Eu Claire and made it into Minneapolis. I spent two lonely hours in Minnesota. I turned over my plane ticket and wrote down all the things I was thankful for. Finally we boarded and took off for Phoenix.

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Now I’m in the Phoenix airport, taunted by an empty conveyor belt…spinning and spinning. It’s almost one in the morning. I’ve been typing for forty-five minutes and still no baggage. In an unlikely turn of events, telling this story has made a hell-day kind of funny. Thanks be to God.