Poopy vacation planning #poop

That's one brown shirt.

That’s one brown shirt.

Did I mention poop yet?

This is the story of a stranger doing all of the travel planning for the final day of our vacation. And we owe it all to poop.

Quick history lesson: It all started on the second day of this blog. I wrote a post entitled Gold Nugget Economics where I espoused the commerce philosophy held by most bosses that everything they produce is a solid gold nugget and everything made by anyone else is poop.

I didn’t set out with a poop agenda on my new blog but there it was on Day Two. What can I say? It fit my economic theory perfectly. Before long the word had been used in several posts. It became a trend. Eventually it became my #1 tag. It was officially a thing.

At that point I did what anyone would do. I vowed to do whatever it took to make sure it stayed #1. Forever. And I would literally move mountains to keep that promise to my loyal reader.

Fast forward to our vacation in Seaside, Oregon this week. We rented a beach house with good friends. We were walking down the main drag. The women folk were shopping. We men were wandering, lost and bored and wondering, “Why the hell aren’t there any fucking benches in this town?” It’s almost like they didn’t want people sitting when they could be spending their money on the quintessential beach crap like fudge, salt water taffy, wind toys, plastic implements of sandcastle construction and nautical-themed nicknacks.

It was then I spied the shirt hanging in front of the cheesy t-shirt shop. “I pooped today.” Houston, we have a problem.

I pointed out the shirt to my friend and we had a painfully short and awkward chuckle. I’m not so sure he knew poop was my thing.

Later when we met up with the girls I mentioned the shirt again. Little did I know at the time the die had already been cast. Yep, we got back to the house and the presents came out. My wife had purchased me the very same shirt. Methinks we’d do well on the Newlywed Game. She knows me so well.

And so it was that I was wearing the poop shirt on our final morning in town. We stopped in the local coffee shop to get some drinks and use the wifi to plan our day. I had a seat and played with my iPad while my wife was on java duty.

“I like your shirt,” said I woman I hadn’t previously noticed.

“Thanks,” I replied, beaming with pride. It’s nice to get that kind of confirmation that you’ve still got it with the ladies.

I learned her name was Sarah and she was a local. We chitchatted for a while then I asked her about beaches. By this time my wife was back. She recommended Hug Point which was a nice beach and also had caves, then going to Manzanita for Mexican food at Left Coast Siesta, then continuing south to Tillamook and catching Highway 26 back to Portland.

Weirdly enough, although we didn’t plan on it, that’s exactly what we did. Her recommendations were spot on. So here’s to our unofficial travel agent Sarah and her keen eye for poop t-shirts. We are in your debt!

3 responses

  1. “beach house” and “good friends” was a very unexpected plot twist. Keep up the good poops. Thx.

    Like

    1. LOL and thanks. I see you spotted all the key suspension of disbelief moments!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I luved this story, keep pooping♥

    Like

Bringeth forth thy pith and vinegar

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