Weekend Roommates and Enemas

The story I'm about to tell is a bit older but it's one that I recently dug up in my journal and thought it'd be a good one to share.

Almost three years ago when I started my current job, I was asked to attend a mandatory skill-builders conference. The first part of the conference would be a weekend retreat in Santa Ana and the second part would take place a few weeks later in in San Diego.  All of the new employees were required to attend both conferences. Being new to the agency, I did not know many people and therefore, my roommate was selected for me. I had the same roommate at both conferences and still regret not having requested a different roommate after having attended the Santa Ana conference.

The first conference with Susan was quite the eye-opener, although that experience did not at all compare to our stay together in San Diego. Just to re-cap Santa Ana, within the first hour of rooming together, Susan expressed to me that she had forgotten her toothbrush as well as her pajamas. "I hope you don't mind if I sleep in my underwear?" she asked. Before I could even respond, she had turned on the table lamp and proceeded to strut around the room in an oversized pair of men's tighty-whities. As an attempt to ignore this woman in her mid-forties with a gray mushroom haircut parading around in men's underpants (open fly and all), I indicated that perhaps she could ask the front desk staff for an extra toothbrush. She did not feel it necessary to brush her teeth that night and so, I figured she'd just wait until the morning.

The next morning (and the first day of the 3-day conference), Susan and I left the room to head down to the conference room. I told her we could leave a few minutes early and stop by the front desk for a toothbrush. She preferred not to stop by and assured me that she'd just drink a cup of coffee to cover up any remnants of her morning breath. Quite disturbed, I remained quiet and secretly devised a plan to converse with her as little as possible. This secret pact I made with myself did not last long as the first speaker at the conference had us partner up. As Susan dominated the conversation, I was forced to look at the thick film that glazed her front teeth. If only she had asked the front desk for a toothbrush!

Later that evening, after the conference was done for the day, Susan asked me if I'd like to  join her for a drink at the restaurant/bar across the street. In an attempt to be cordial with my weekend roommate, I agreed. It was over a few glasses of wine and Susan's raw steak that that she divulged to me that she had been in a polyamorous relationship with a 60-year-old heterosexual couple and she just so happened to fall in love with the man in the relationship. Apparently "he taught [her] all about tantric sex." She then explained that she no longer speaks with these two individuals because her feelings had become much more than she had initially bargained for. As if that conversation wasn't intense enough, Susan proceeded to then tell me about her current "situation" with her obsessive compulsive pre-op female to male transgender "lover". Although I am open to different lifestyles and all types of relationships, I found this conversation a bit too much to handle coming from someone I barely knew. I suppose it was less an issue of discomfort with the subject-matter and more an issue of not sure how to respond to this person I know very little about. We were breaching boundaries I had never expected would be on the night's agenda.

So...now let me fast-forward to our San Diego weekend. I arrived late to the hotel on the first night because I had missed my flight. I had made plans to meet up with Susan and some of the other women from our agency for dinner but had to skip it as I arrived much too late. That said, when I arrived at the hotel, Susan was not yet there as she was out to dinner with our other colleagues. I had about half-an-hour of alone time before Susan arrived at the room and immediately began complaining of stomach discomfort. When I asked her what she had eaten, she proceeded to ramble on about a Mexican feast she had just eaten followed by complaints of ongoing gastro-intestinal problems.

The next morning, I woke up to a 7:25 wake-up call that allowed me ample time to get up, shower, and make it down to the conference room for a quick continental breakfast before the series of workshops would begin. When I got out of the shower and left the bathroom to rummage through my suitcase, I almost passed out as Susan must have been expelling gas the entire time I was in the shower. The room smelled like the smelliest fart I've ever experienced. Susan stepped out onto the balcony to continue releasing; meanwhile, she carelessly left the sliding glass door open causing the retched smell to waft into our hotel room.

By this point I was pretty upset and I opted to meet her down at the conference room rather than walk down with her. I felt perhaps she could use the "alone time" and I could really use some fresh air.

I found an empty seat at one of the conference tables and Susan decided to take the seat directly behind mine. During one of the presentations, Susan's stomach began acting up again and silent bombs were being dropped left and right. Suddenly, people around me began searching for the culprit and I was absolutely humiliated. It dawned on me that perhaps people thought the smell was coming from me!

About mid-way through the conference and about an hour or so before lunch, Susan whispered to me that she'd be leaving for a while. She wasn't feeling well and wanted to "go back to the room to rest." That said, I was quite surprised when I saw her in the buffet line at lunch time. Every afternoon the hotel would put on a different themed buffet. On this day, it just so happened to be Mexican Fiesta. I asked Susan how she was feeling and if eating heavy Mexican food was a good idea. She responded, "I just want to see what they have. I probably won't eat too much though."

After serving myself, I sat at the table with some of my colleagues to enjoy my lunch. Susan sat across from me at the same table. As I peered across to see what items were on her plate, I noticed she had piled her plate high with cheese enchiladas and refried beans. Really!? She was a gas tank that needed re-fueling! Suddenly, I felt a sense of rage rush through my body. How is it that you complain about your gastro-intestinal issues and fart up a storm in a conference room full of people and then serve yourself a plate full of gas-inducing food? How offensive!

I refused to go back to the room when the conference ended for the day. Instead, I took a book to the pool and read until it was time to meet the other women in the lobby for dinner. I had to sneak upstairs to grab a coat right before we left and although I secretly did not want Susan to join us for dinner, I asked her if she'd be coming along. She replied, "I'm not feeling very well. I think I'm going to stay here and rest."

The other women and I enjoyed a lovely seafood dinner and decided to walk around the streets of San Diego. We were probably gone for a good four hours or so when we decided to return to the hotel for the night. Susan was lounging on her bed and watching t.v. when I returned to our room. Within 10 minutes of arriving, Susan asked me if I needed to get into the bathroom. When I responded "no," she said, "okay because I'm going to be in here for a while. I'm not feeling very well and I am going to give myself an enema."

"Whaaaaatttt? Is this for real?" I asked myself.  Who packs an enema kit with them for a weekend work conference and who performs this procedure with a stranger in the next room!? I had never heard of anything like this happening before and in fact, I had never known anyone who had given themselves an enema (or at least told me about it). I began asking myself a number of questions beginning with--Will there be awkward sound effects involved? Should I plug my ears?

While Susan proceeded to give herself an enema, I plugged my headphones into my laptop and watched an episode of The Office in hopes that my laughter would block out the sounds of any potential grunts. I believe I slept soundly that night anticipating the plane ride back to San Francisco the next morning and feeling relieved to have completed the last segment of the skill-builders conference.