PGHIMC - Pittsburgh Independent Media Center

An Off-Color Anecdote from the Frontlines in Oakland, Pittsburgh and Elsewhere
by Lou Sbals • Saturday, Sep. 26, 2009 at 9:37 AM

One radically honest protesters account of A Funny Thing That Happened Along The Way during the struggle. Hopefully this blog can provide a bit of the human touch that is so lacking in coverage of the G20 resistance. A tale of Militant Anarchism and (one of) it's associated pitfalls.

     The 25th started like any day of insurrectionary anarchist struggle. I was taking a vacation from the collective for a week, just readying for the post-capitalist power struggle and participating in the unified front for G20 in Pittsburgh. The one difference was that I had to make a 75 mile drive up to the DC area to pick up a load of small explosive charges that I was getting for actions later that night. The trip up was quite uneventful, and I had soon exchanged $1300 for the package and was back on the interstate heading north. About 10 minutes into the trip, I felt a stirring in my bowels, that indicated I needed to take a shit pretty soon.(why isn't it leave a shit). Oh well, I'd just passed a sign that said rest area 20 miles. I don't like using those capitalist pig bathrooms, especially the stalls, but I really had to go, and true revolutionaries don't shit in their pants, so I resolved to bite the bullet and stop at the rest area.

     Each mile, my need to go became greater. I'd been clocking the miles down on the odometer, and though I was getting pretty desperate. I was relatively sure I'd make it. Then traffic started to slow. I crept along for about another half mile, then everything came to a dead stop, right in front of a sign which said, "Parkway West closed temporarily for motorcade traffic " so close, yet so far.

     There I sat, in one of the middle lanes of a 4 lane interstate, surrounded by vehicles on all sides. To make things worse, there were jersey walls along this stretch of the highway, so I couldn't just slip into the woods or something to drop my pants and shit. If it was just that I had to piss, I could have used my empty glycerine jugs or something. I did need that too, but my most pressing problem was on the flip side from the pee area. How does one take a shit in a car, in the middle of a colossal traffic jam in fascist Amerikka. One answer was (and the only one I could think of) was to shit in ones pants, but I wasn't quite ready to do that. After all, true revolutionaries don't shit in their pants.

     I sat there, pushing my bottom against the car seat, and squeezing my butt together in an effort to not crap my pants. Each second seemed like minutes, and each minute seemed an eternity. Half an hour passed, and I was involuntarily passing gas every minute or so. I could feel a massive shit trying to open my anal gate and exit into my pants. I squeezed my butt cheeks together even harder. All I could think of was, would Ravachol have sullied his trousers?

     I was sweating from my efforts to hold on, and from the nearly 90 degree September heat, when I started to lose my battle. In spite of my best efforts my sphincter was giving in and I was starting to shit right there. I could feel the soft mushy poop coming out into my pants. I lifted off the seat, and my pants were immediately filled with mushy shit. Now what? I couldn't brace and hold my bottom up from the seat forever. Even if I wanted to get out and expose myself to hundreds if not thousands of petty bourgeois scum as I tried to clean out my pants, I couldn't do it without sitting down in a huge load of shit in my pants.

     Finally I decided, I'd just sit there and wait until traffic started to move. I eased down. It went everywhere as I eased my weight(200+pounds) onto the load in my pants. Shit spread everywhere, I could feel it nearly up to the elastic at the waist of my dumpstered briefs, and it had definitely spread past the leg openings into my already stained jeans.

     There I sat in my own shit as I waited for traffic to move. Another hour passed before traffic again started to move. Each movement caused more shit to be forced out into my jeans. I looked longingly at the rest area entrance as I approached it, but it was way to late, and I was too much of a mess to think about going inside to clean up. Besides, I didn't have a change of clothing with me. I kept going, even though I now needed to pee really bad too. It took another 45 minutes to get to the Autonomous Zone, and I pissed myself too, long before then.

     When I got out to the spot, I felt shit slide down my leg as I walked through the gate. Fortunately, the rest of my comrades were in a Security for Radicals workshop, so I was alone, and I didn't see anyone close enough to tell that I'd shit in my pants. I went straight to the bathroom to clean up. Thank god for a hand held shower, it made the clean up a bit easier. I just threw my underpants and jeans in the trash bin, because I felt that both were beyond salvaging. I was able to wash my shirt, even though it too had shit on the lower part where it had made it up past the waist of my underwear. I guess Revolutionaries do shit in their pants sometimes.

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