I’m really not one to bitch about traveling. It’s actually one of the most fun and rewarding things I do. But, much like NFL football, there are times when a truly wonderful thing can pull a one-eighty and leave a truly bitter taste in your mouth.
Let me say that the actual trip as a whole was actually pretty cool. I was able to see parts of the country unfamiliar to me (even though I had, in fact, traveled through them while touring years ago). I fully experienced life at high altitudes and learned an elementary version of the wrath of the Rocky Mountains. My trip comprised of me hitting more states in a shorter timeframe than I had ever achieved before.
But, not without a price.
On the way to Slat Lake City, my wife and I made a stop in Colby, Kansas, a town that, to my recollection, is about an hour east of the Kansas-Colorado border. We pulled off the highway and made our way to a Burger King. While there, I placed my order to a very short, tragic avalanche fat woman in her 50’s — a large Double Whopper combo — and found myself on the receiving end of stares emanating from the rest of the restaurant patrons, who themselves seemed like participants of a field trip coordinated by a local old folk’s home.
Over the next twenty minutes or so, we ate, then left. Those creepy Baby Boomer eyes never seemed to leave us. So you can probably imagine why those stares seem 80’s horror movie ominous when I tell you that I began feeling some intestinal distress about an hour and a half later when I woke up from a nap.
This set the tone for the remainder of the vacation. I found myself at the mercy of my bowels whenever they came calling (which was far too frequent for me to handle without being vehemently annoyed).
But, some good has come out of this nightmare. I spent the time under the influence of Burger King’s intestinal holocaust cursing Kansas. My curses went from a few “fuck you, Kansas”‘s to more complex insults, and with increasing frequency, so as a way to keep my mind from the agony in my colon, my wife suggested I compile said insults.
These are my results:
First, the “burns”:
- Kansas is about as interesting as Hilary Swank’s chest.
- Do you know why Kansas has a higher instance of severe tornadoes? It’s nature trying to correct a mistake.
Along with these insults (and many more that were forgotten due to extreme duress or medication), I also created potential Urban Dictionary entires, all themed around my hatred for Kansas. Enjoy them.
- The Flaming Kansas : a condition in which defecation produces a burning sensation in and around your anal sphincter. The smell of the feces is usually consistent with the smell of rotten eggs or is sulphuric. The evacuated fecal material is usually accompanied by water.
- The Inverted Flaming Kansas : an incident that may occur after having anal intercourse with someone who has recently eaten at the Burger King in Colby, Kansas. This can only be achieved by granting the other person permission to Shaiza on you.
- The Wichita Handjob : when one receives a hand job from someone with less than ten fingers.
- The Wichita Blowjob : when one receives oral sex from someone with rotting and/or missing teeth.
- The Wichita Whoopsie : when one discovers the person they are fucking is, in fact, biologically related to them.
Slowly my insides began to calm down and by the time my wife and I had to head back home, my colon had finally begun to recover. However, the trip back would prove to be ill-fated as well.
Allow me to backtrack for a moment.
One of my favorites shows is South Park, and for obvious reasons. I was ten when it first came out and I, like everyone else who first saw the show at that time, assumed it would have been along the same line as The Simpsons or Beavis and Butt-head, which were also shows we watched.
Furthermore, one of my favorite South Park episodes is “Casa Bonita” (episode 7×11), in which Cartman locks Butters in a fallout shelter so he can go to Casa Bonita, a theme restaurant, in Butters’ place. Well, in a re-watching of the episode a couple of weeks ago, I came to find out that Casa Bonita was a real place and because of that dramatic revelation, my wife and I resolved to go when we got into Denver during the return trip.
I’m going to be honest, I looked forward to Casa Bonita during the entire trip to Utah and during the entire time I spent there. I was excited to see Black Bart’s Cave and eat sopapillas and watch the cliff divers. Throughout our drive through Colorado, from the desolate western side through the tourism hotspots (i.e. Vail) and the remainder of the Rockies, I could hardly contain my excitement. It even got to the point where I put Rammstein’s “Ti Quiero Puta!” on loop to further get myself psyched up about my upcoming experience. I actually thought it was going to be a really cool place.
Boy, was I goddamned wrong.
I really don’t need to explain to anyone that the place actually kind of sucked. Black Bart’s Cave was just a cramped, meandering tunnel where no one jumped out to scare you. I found the acting in the showdown between Sheriff McTool (not the character’s real name, I assume) and Black Bart to be inferior to the acting in Yo Gabba Gabba! Furthermore, the food really sucked.
So, we left shortly after eating and explore a bit. After driving through Colfax looking for a gas station (Colfax is a sketchy area, it seemed), he headed south and departed Denver. Of course, a little bit of Denver stowed away.
To be comparative on the subject, let me say that the distress I was exposed to in Kansas could have in no way, shape, or form contended with the horror I suffered at the hands of Casa Bonita. This suffering was Biblical by comparison. It started to feel like my insides were the vents on Mt. Vesuvius, ready to blow at a second’s notice. So, like before, my wife (who herself was suffering the cruel wrath of Casa Bonita) suggested creating something comedic with the experience. She also contributed to the list.
And so:
Intestinal ailments caused by the consumption of food at Casa Bonita May be referred to by the following names:
- Black Bart’s Revenge
- A Calamity in Colorado
- The Denver Dumps
- Mariachi Mudslide
- Diving off the Cliff
- Casa Bonita Surprise
- Casa Butt-Need-A-Toilet
- Crossing the Border
- The Colfax Colon Flux
- An Enchilada Explosion
- Little Mexican Chernobyl
- The Chili Rundown
- The Intestinal Juggle
- The Great Denver Dysentery
- The Rocky Mountain Poopies
- Cartman’s Ultimate Prank
- Ventilating the Car
- El Diablo Caliente (The Hot Demon)
- A Fate Likely Worse Than Death
- La Casa No Es Agradable (The Not Nice House)
- The Denver Dragon
It was brutal, but the worst part about it is that I had to endure several hours of cramping and fiery intestines before any progress could be made. It took until arriving at some New Mexico truck stop less than an hour northwest of the the New Mexico-Texas border.
Goddamn, I punished that toilet.
Author’s Note: I am very aware that this post is as explicit as it is disgusting. If you are bothered by graphic depictions of diarrhea and diarrhea-related activities then I highly suggest you… stop fucking lying! If you have made it this far, then it is pretty obvious frank discussion about throwing up out of your ass isn’t something that makes you, yourself, ralph. Also, note that the entire point of this post was to further bitch about the shittiness of Kansas and the dystopian horror that accompanies Casa Bonita.
I hope you enjoyed a look into the mind of yours truly, especially considering this glimpse came from a time of constitutional hell. But, much like Stan and Kyle in South Park, I think I learned something from that experience. I learned that no matter how hungry you are, it may not be wise to consume double cheeseburgers in a town that looks like showers have not yet been invented. I also learned that even though a place looks awesome in a cartoon, doesn’t necessarily mean that place will be as awesome as you expect it to be.
And all it took was a serious case of the trots.
The Zephyr Lounge 