God didn't want me to poop there

The summer after my 12th birthday looked like it was going to be a pretty miserable one. Both of my parents worked weird hours and my sister had decided to stay at college to take summer classes. A young DB, who was only 12 and couldn't drive anywhere and who also had not yet discovered the time and soul killing practice of masturbation, was looking at a couple months of boredom. (This was pre internet!)

"Why don't you go to church camp?" my mother suggested. "Some of your friends are going. You might have a good time." My mom knew this was a lie. She's well aware that I'm incapable of having a good time.

I decided I'd give it a chance. I had been a regular church attender in the past, but had slacked off a little bit ever since my sister had moved away. I was by no means pious, but I had a healthy respect for religion. I just wasn't sure if it was for me. I have never been a big fan of people trying to tell me what I should or shouldn't believe, and religion was something I was still on the fence about. I thought that maybe a week of nothing but religion and religious-related activities might give me a better idea of what was going on and help me better form an opinion, so I tossed the ol' Bible into my bag and headed off to Lake Some Indian Name That I Forgot.

Imagine the most boring thing you can possibly think of. Now multiply it by some number that's higher than you can count. That was this camp. I was bored by the fact that most of the activities involved water, and I couldn't swim. We could play basketball, but no defense and you had to stand in one spot. Pretty fuckin' fun. I also remember being pulled aside and talked to after I unsuccessfully tried to hold back a laugh when a fellow camper said that he'd especially like to thank Jesus for his new four-wheeler. I get Jesus and Santa confused sometimes too!

We would split off in groups and, on a voluntary basis, explain our relationship with God. I would pass. I started to get the "why are you even here" looks from the other people in my group. If they had actually asked me, I probably would have replied "the eggs." They had the best scrambled eggs I have ever eaten, and I literally ate mounds of them, which makes this story even more miraculous.

The content of this camp didn't prove to help me with my religious questions. I was at a weird point in my life. My thoughts had become strange. Half the time I was thinking how sweet it would be to have a pet dinosaur, but also wondering what a boob felt like. Wondering if the Ninja Turtles really could beat up Shredder and really hoping that my solitary pube would decide that he liked the place and invite some friends. Needless to say, I wasn't in a place to fill my head with all this religion stuff. The toolish camp counselors dancing and singing didn't help much either. I was already pretty sure I was a nerd. This didn't look like it was going to help.

The first night of camp we had a big sing/tell stories/camp crap thing in the meeting hall. It wasn't too bad. Towards the end, some of the counselors asked if any of us were ready to be saved. Hey, why not? A friend of mine went first. A while later, he came back and it was obvious that he'd been crying, which freaked me out a little. The counselor asked me next if I'd like to go. "Mmmm...no thanks," I replied. I remember thinking that maybe that shit hurt. I wanted to part of it. Looking back, maybe he was raped. Who really knows...

That night when we got back to our cabin and right before we all went to sleep, I felt the urge to um...poop. I glanced over at the toilet. I could see it from my bunk because it happened to be in the corner of the room. No door, no curtain. Just open space and you. It was like a retarded kid on the bench of a little league baseball game. You didn't want to use it, but you knew you eventually had to. I really didn't want to take a dump as 30 guys watched. I'm not Kenny's mom.

That night, I prayed. I said something along the lines of, "if I can make it this whole week without pooping, I'm on board with this whole "faith" thing." Anybody who knows me knows that I'm an ardent and prolific pooper. This wasn't going to be easy, especially with those delicious, buttery eggs.

I kept busy by gluing beans on crosses and other artsy/craftsy church camp shit, as well as becoming a pretty badass defenseless basketball player. I think I played immobile forward. Maybe stationary guard. I forget. Anyway, the last day of camp rolled around and I had yet to take Big Brown to the Derby and my mind was made up.

I probably made God cry a little when I got home that day as I took a dump that could have probably smothered a small to medium sized Asian village. The important thing was that I made it a week without having to use the disgusting voyeur toilet.

It's strange to think about how you arrive at major life decisions. In this case, I think my butt getting plugged for a week by God made my decision for me. Wait...