I used to haul over 200 pounds of manure every day across the Nebraskan farm where I grew up. It was my job to make sure the cows' daily gift was delivered to the garden. My first time on a plane, I was 14. My dad had rented my services out to a family in Seattle for a week. This was pre-9/11, so security was very low, and I thought my job would be easier if I could just bring along a sack of our manure. I wore it under some double-extra-large clothing, so it just looked like I was obese. Once I got on the plane, the bag burst, and began to leak. I couldn't just start dumping manure all over my seat, so I held the leak closed with one hand, and shimmied my way to the bathroom, where I spent the next 90 minutes emptying it and flushing it. Now, it turns out that plane toilets aren't built to handle a couple hundred pounds of solid waste. When I reached the halfway point, it started backing up, so I began sprinkling it into the sink drain. Unfortunately, it turned out that both drains empty into the same tank. The bathroom began to flood. I ran out, manure leaking from both of my pantlegs, and rancid brown water flooding from the bathroom door. I blamed it on the airline food, and threatened to sue, so they gave me my return ticket for free. Unfortunately, because I lost so much manure by the time I reached Seattle, I had to shit all over the clients' flower bed in order for my job to be anywhere near convincing.