45 minutes...

I rarely get nervous.

However, yesterday on BART, I couldn't help but get nervous.

The day started off like any other day. Get to work, work my ass off, wish some people would get hit by a fucking bus and wonder how the fuck they even got a job, Facebook a bit, stalk on Instagram, convince myself I don't need a beer at lunch, have lunch, go back to work...you get the picture.

My day was finally over and I was heading to BART, back to the East Bay. Another 45 minute commute and I can go home and chill. So I thought...

The train was packed and of course, once I hopped on, it's standing room only with no A/C. Just pure heat with every motherfuckers stench to ingest and appreciate. I stood next to some dude who looked like the Unibomber, a soul sister who had so much weave you thought she was actually a horse or Fabio and one broad so damn fine, bitch was making ME blush. The train takes off from Montgomery Station and that's when it hit me...those hot wings.

Now, I know what y'all are thinking..."Great...J, shit his pants again. This dude is a fucking wreck."

Just so we can clear the air, I didn't shit my pants. This story isn't even about shitting my pants, rather, the events that happened so I wouldn't shit my pants. You're welcome.

I felt the initial pain as soon as the train was making it's next stop. It was like my stomach was initially taking a 10 lb. shit in a 5 lb. bag. I started to sweat. I knew I shouldn't have eaten those goddamn motherfucking hot wings, let alone 9 of them with those tasty sliders and drank that Lagunitas. I started to slowly breathe like those pregnant bitches do in lamaze class. In through the nose, out through the mouth...focus, focus, FOCUS. "You think this is a game God? You think this is a fucking game, bro?" is all I can say to myself.

The pain in my stomach was fucking with me so bad that my own mind started messing with me:

"Why is everyone starting at me?"

"Did I shit my pants and I didn't even know it?"

"DO.NOT.LET.YOUR.BUTTCHEEKS.LOOSE."

"I thought you were gonna eat salad and fruit all week?"

The slower I began to breathe, the more I began to sweat like a whore in church. I kept my feet exactly shoulder length apart while keeping my anus so tight that not even a tip of a toothpick could get in there. That's when the hot chick standing next to me started to stare. Man, this chick was fine. So fine that I got lost in her eyes for a second and I could feel a possible fart coming on. It was at that point I looked away like this bitch offended me for staring. Broad had beautiful ass eyes too.

I was dying, people. Sweat dripping from my forehead, arms and balls profusely (that's how much pain and nervous energy I was having...my balls were working up a sweat so bad, that I felt like I was pissing myself...but through my yam bag). Anus clinched so tight that it was quivering out of control...like a cold little puppy lost in Antarctica just looking for some warm shelter. My legs started to shake at one point that it looked like I was twerking just for the fuck of it. Horse weave, Unibomber and Dream Weaver stared...and stared for good reason.

Here I was, trying to be all cool. Crooked ass smile with so much sweat that one would think I just finished working out. I think at one moment, tears started streaming down my face because I was so afraid that if I moved my legs, sneezed, coughed, laughed or loosened my asshole just a smidgen, dookie along with my intestines were gonna explode through my pants and hit the poor Asian woman sitting behind me.

With such disappointed and terror shown on my face, I looked down and began counting from one thousand backwards...because with 20 minutes left on this fucked up BART ride, I needed to find my Chi as well as inner ninja warrior since nothing else was working good enough for this fucked up pain to go away.

As each stop came and left, people were exiting the train and asking me to step aside. I couldn't even move. One lady said, "Are you deaf, son? Excuse me, I'm trying to get out." I looked her dead in the eyes and all I could say was, "Ma'am, if I move, you will regret ever asking. Go around please or it's gonna get nasty up in here." That's when I let a little fart out and the old Asian woman behind me gagged. Sorry, boo. Luckily it was a silent one and the smell could be blamed on the Chinese food she had in her lap. This should teach you not to hang out in the "no fly zone," Yoko.

The last 15 minutes felt like I was blackout sloppy drunk. Incoherent and no idea of what the fuck was going on around me. All I saw were spots and the face of Jesus himself...looking at me with such shame and utter disappointment. I finally reach my stop, take one deep breath and exit the train with buttcheeks so tight and legs so stiff that it almost looked like I broke my back or was pregnant. Walking the stairs wasn't an option so I took the elevator hoping to just make it to my car. FML.

I exited that station with such caution, got in my car and prayed that I wouldn't make any sudden movements, get pulled over or be caught in traffic. It must have been a miracle because I made it home within 7 minutes and within 30 seconds of being home, I had a new kick in my step.

Through it all, that had to have been the worst 45 minutes of my fucking life. Well, probably not, but pretty goddamn close.

Moral of the story: If you're gonna eat something that you know is gonna hit you later, eat that shit at home. AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR DROPPING DEUCE IN THEIR PANTS!

If this has happened to you or someone you love, just know, you're not alone.