Travel Fucktastrophes: The Stories I’ve Never Told

When traveling, there are those stories that are never told. No, not the ones about what happened in Bangkok or Berlin or Las Vegas — those always get told, often with “my friend” or “this guy I know” substituted in place of the slightly more embarrassing “me” 😉

I’m talking about those crazy embarrassing stories. Those, for lack of a better phrase, travel fucktastrophes.

  Today is my seven year nomadiversary. That’s right, it’s been 2,557 days since I quit my job and embarked on my global adventures. And in my tradition of doing an annual evaluation post on this sacred day, this year I’ve decided to start a new series here at the HoliDaze chronicling the stories I’ve never told.

Here’s the thing: everything, no matter how unpleasant or unfortunate, eventually becomes funny in hindsight if given enough time. Except rape. That’s never funny. Please fix yourself India.

So here we go…

Travel Fucktastrophe #1: The Time I Shit Myself At Immigration

Everyone always tells you to act normal at immigration. Especially if you happen to be smuggling something. Just act normal. It will all be okay.

Several years ago I was doing a land crossing into a country which will remain anonymous. (It was in Central America, but that’s all the info you’ll get.) I’d been feeling a little nervous on the bus all afternoon however I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. I mentally checked and rechecked everything that was in my bag, making sure there was nothing in my backpack still that could get me in trouble if they decided to x-ray it or search it. Nothing. So why do I have butterflies in my belly?

Travel fucktastrophes: Smoking marijuana with locals
“No sir, I do not use or abuse any drugs, nor do I have any in my possession”

Eventually the bus pulls up at the border and everyone shuffles off. I retrieve my backpack and join the immigration queue, still unable to ease this weird feeling I have.

10 minutes goes by. I’m finally nearing the front of the line. Suddenly I feel the need to fart. I fake a look backwards to slightly re-position my body and discretely pass my gas to the side rather than dust the lady behind me…

Travel fucktastrophes mean sometimes you are not always a happy crapper
A happy crapper I was not.

Only it wasn’t a fart. As a warm wet mess began sliding down my posterior I suddenly realized: holy fuck, I’ve just shit myself. In public. In the fucking immigration queue of all places.

I feel it starting to slide down my thigh as I quickly exit the queue and rush off in search of a restroom. There! Only a few yards away. Hurry hurry!

I get into the restroom (probably the nicest word anyone has ever used to describe this foul-smelling shack) and thankfully it was empty. Rushing into a stall I strip off my shorts and boxers. Toilet paper…none! I grab a shirt from my bag that I suddenly decide I no longer want. “Hurry hurry, you have to get through immigration and back on the bus!” is all I can think.

Wet naps…yes, two small individually sealed ones I’ve been carrying around in the side pocket of my backpack for months. Clean, clean, clean, hurry, hurry, hurry!

Okay, legs clean enough for now. Boxers…trash. Shirt…trash. Shorts…I like you. And that stain can be washed out. I pulled a plastic bag out of my backpack, tossed them in there, tied a knot and threw it into my backpack. “Well, that will stop them from searching any deeper in my bag” is the only thought that can even remotely ease my mental anguish at myself, a grown adult and partially functioning member of society, just having shit myself in the immigration queue.

Exit the stall. Bathroom is still vacant, good. Small miracles. Wash my hands real fast then back to the line…hurry!

And pretend like nothing happened.

  New Travel Fucktastrophes will be published eventually….after as the embarrassment dies down a bit 😉

What is your most embarrassing travel fucktastrophe?

Other nomadiversary posts you will love:

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About Derek Freal

"Some people eat, others try therapy. I travel."   Cultural enthusiast. Adrenaline junkie. Eater of strange foods. Chasing unique and offbeat adventures around the world since 2008. Derek loves going to new destinations where he does not speak a word of the local language and must communicate with hand gestures, or places where he is forced to squat awkwardly to poo -- supposedly its healthier and more efficient. For more information (about Derek, not squat pooing) including popular posts and videos, check out his bio.

8 thoughts on “Travel Fucktastrophes: The Stories I’ve Never Told”

  1. I was in Great Kepple Island, Queensland, Australia and staying in a hostel there. We were only there for the night, and earlier that afternoon, my friend and I met a few girls on the banana boat and decided to meet up for a few beers with them that evening. After I cook before we met them, I went to the toilet for a number two. While sitting, waiting for nature to take it’s natural cause, I heard this noise – which sounded like to pieces of corrugated steel being rubbed together. I took no notice and continued my business. The noise then got louder. I didn’t know what it was but I was nearly done what I was doing. Then…….BANG……. On my shoulder jumped a scary possum. These creatures are not the cutest of animals. I screamed like a girl and the critter scurried off into the night. I look up from my prone position to see a hole in the roof with three pairs of possum eyes looking at me. Someone ran into the toilet and asked what happened. I said “A mother f***ing possum has just jumped on me!!!” To which he replied “Oh, fair enough. Sounded like something serious.” Eventually we went out.

    When catching the ferry the day after, we spoke to this American girl who had been at our hostel. She told me this story: “The funniest thing happened last night. I was cooking with some of the people from the hostel and I heard this blood-curdling scream. Apparently, some dude was having a dump and a possum jumped on his shoulder!” Needless to say, I admitted the said blood-curdling scream was from me, and I continued to get ribbed for the rest of the ferry trip!

    • Hahaha thanks. Been meaning to publish the second installment (That Time I Accidentally Took A Ladyboy Home) but even though that happened years ago, I’m back in Thailand again and think it might be best to wait until I leave. Have a couple other fucktastrophes but have yet to get them written down… Yes, “good old memories” I’ve tried so hard to forget….but at least now I can laugh about them hahaha 😉


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