LMAO, Bob! You don't know just how close to the truth that is!
My regular dive buddy and I were driving up to Martha's Quarry in Lebanon, Tennessee. She hadn't eaten breakfast and asked to swing through the drive-thru at Mickey D's, so I obliged. I decided, while there, to get a Sausage McGriddle. (Now referred to as the, "McShi.." er... anyway... *ahem*
The first dive went quite well. We got out, had a bit of lunch, and then went back for the second dive. I was on my way to the far wall of the quarry when I felt an uncomfortable rumbling in my guts, and an escape of bubbles. Trust me: This was not your average "turd signaling for clearance." These things were like depth charges! I made a noise like, ruh-roh..., signaled my buddy that I was having a problem, and then began to swim like hell for the ramp.
It was like something out of a nightmare, where you run and run and can't seem to get anywhere. I swam and swam, and the pressure was building, and I just wasn't making headway fast enough. I finally dragged myself ashore like a beached sea turtle, and then BOLTED up the ramp, feverishly shucked my gear and wetsuit, (Argh!! Those things are IMPOSSIBLE to get off in a hurry!!) and then sprinted for the porta-potty. I made it with not ONE second to spare! Suffice to say, my legs were twitching and I was broke out in a sheen of cold sweat by the time I was finished.
"Screw you, McDonald's!!" *shaking fist*