Ah the Plane plague! I know it well!

Oh, dear. Con Cruds.

Having been in possession of an upset digestive tract when visiting Malaysia, I can empathize.

It was fortunate that the facilities had hoses.

Details! You can't just say it was a good thing the restrooms had hoses and leave it at that!

In the year 2000, our previous port of call was Pattya Beach, Thailand. The day before we left, a storm blew in and churned up the bottom of the sea. In my infinite ignorance, I decided that going for a bout of body surfing in the chocolate waves of a third world nation was a grand idea.

Thus, any number of ingested microbes decided that taking a tour of my intestinal tract was also a grand idea.

I imagine that for them, it was much like a roller coaster, or a zoom flume at a water park. I'm quite certain a great deal of fun was had by everyone who'd climbed aboard, but you know those bridges that cross the channel of the last drop? Where you can stand and watch the log ride come down the slope and send a wall of water onto everyone standing on the bridge?

My body was the ride, and the back wall of the stall was the bridge.

But what truly frightened me wasn't just the incredible volume of the eruption, but the force behind it. You could have mounted me on top of a fire truck and used me to extinguish a class bravo fire after a plane crash.

For all the same reasons you would use AFFF in the same situation.

Now, for those patrons of the facilities who were *not* suffering from such distress, the hoses were used as an inexpensive bidet, in lieu of expensive and troublesome toilet paper. But for me, who did *not* want to leave the facilities in a condition far, far worse than I'd found them, they provided a means of disaster recovery and restoration.

I may have been an idiot tourist, but I wasn't a monster.

Anyway, the situation only plagued me for a single day. Dozens of times perhaps, but after acquiring medicine from a chemist, I was back in control of my faculties, and the local facilities were no longer subjected to my unwilling Jackson Pollock impression.

Now then.

While this explanation was requested, I understand that in the interests of the equanimity of our beloved and gracious host, I was under no obligation to provide the desired details. But being a bit of a bard myself, neither did I feel that the challenge could go unanswered. Thus I have endeavored to provide as much detail as possible, while still leaving everything strictly up to the imagination of the reader.

What our host chooses to do with me for doing so, I humbly beg for mercy.

But what they do to you for instigating, I feel is best left to the whim of the gods.

You could change a few of the details and the story would fit perfectly in a Haribo Sugar-Free Gummy Bears review.