Definition: In this task, you are given a Reddit post as a text. Your task is to generate a title for this text. The title should start with "TIFU by", followed by a situation that caused humor. The title should contain 7-12 words, ideally.
Input: Text: abiding by tifu's law, this happened little less than a year ago. for obvious reasons, this is an alt account. 

storytime.

i am a music producer/live artist touring with my music in various places around the world. unlike dj's, my performances require a bit of equipment (god how i sometimes wish all i'd need would be a usb stick...). anyway, usually my routine after arriving at my destination is to set everything up, make sure its working properly and do a couple of test runs to feel sure everything will work out fine. for this particular event, i was a few days early. it was a new show so i wanted to rehearse the show for a bit. the venue had assured me that they had space for me, a nice room with speakers and all the time i'd need to do whatever i wanted to do.

so yeah that didnt really happen. the "nice room with speakers and all the time in the world" ended up being a table in a warehouse where they were setting up an expo with a team of 20 people. the speakers were a set of distorting computer speakers and every time i upped the volume, i'd get requests if i could tone it down a bit. so after a few hrs of frustration i decided to ask around in my network if anyone knew a place where i could work in peace. to my surprise & utter shock, i received a response "mr jingles [name replaced for obvious reasons] has a room for you where you can work. his studio is around the corner, feel free to drop by whenever you want." 

so mr jingles is a big time producer in the techno world, like mainstage material the world over. i had never met him in person but he was one of my all time heroes. needless to say, i had this mixture of excitement, panic and "omg this is happening" racing through my mind as i started to pack everything up again. (getting to the tifu real soon here...)

30 minutes and a wild cabdrive later, i found myself at the studio gates. i tried very hard to keep my cool as i rang the doorbell (though i suspect my face might not have played along with that all too well). someone lets me in, greets me with a welcoming smile and shows me to the studio. my jaw drops, this dude has every piece of equipment one could possibly immagine. seriously, its like a synthesizer museum in there... mr jingles is there too, working something that one could only describe as a nasa control panel. he briefly greets me and informs me the person who opened the door will show me to my space. he had to leave soon but i'd get a key and could come in and out whenever i wanted. 

10 minutes later i am unpacking everything in a lovely control room with a massive set of speakers. its like a wet dream come true, working in a place like this. mr jingles and his host have left the studio and i was alone in the studio.

tifu time:
i think all the emotions, the airtravel (this happened the same day i flew in), the frustration of the earlier setup and the homey feeling in this dream of a studio all balled together into one inevitable conclusion: i needed to poo. badly. i hadnt noticed all day but now my bowels were screaming at me to relieve the tension in my belly. since no one was there, i figured "coast is clear" so i went for it.

compared to the rest of the studio, the toilet was a bit underwhelming. i dont know what i expected, but this was just your average poopingdock. that said, even a kitty litter box would have been perfect for me. i positioned myself, alligned my rear end with the porcelain launchpad and declared bombs away. it was massive! seriously, those of you who ever take pictures of their produce after being done with their craft, you would have been proud of me. i think i lost a few pounds in one sitting, it was glorious and i now understand why our common internet hero liked to describe it as "justice". wiping was an undertaking but i managed, tossed it on my produce and got up to flush. right as i pulled the chord (yep, one of those toilets) i read this little note: "pipes are dodgy. dont flush paper"...

within seconds, the waterlevel started rising higher and higher until about an inch from the rim. the culprit was wedged away right at the airlock but still in one piece so i saw it sticking out right there at the bottom, wound together into a papier mache baguette. i looked for something i could use to try and unwedge it, found a plunger and gave it a few good pumps before finding out it had a hole in it, preventing it from decent suction. i had the bright idea of trying to fix it with some ductape if i could find any. after a scavenger hunt through the studio, i found some tape and a coat hanger to try and break the brick of poo. i fixed the plunger to the best of my abilities, unwound the coathanger and poked a few holes in my produce before going at it with the plunger.
damn ductape did not work, hole was still there and now my wonder well had dissolved my produce into a brown aromatic poop soup.

this is where i panicked.
what if mr jingles came back and saw what i had done to his bathroom? what would he think of me!? and why had i been so stupid to not read the instructions on this alien bathroom prior to unleashing my reversed dinner? i had to fix this. i couldnt find any rubber gloves during my scavenger hunt but i did see a few trashbags in the kitchen. brilliant idea: i put my arm into the trashbag and sealed it off around my armpit with ductape. nothing would go through! optimistic as i felt, i plunged my arm into the toilet to find out the bag was leaking at the fingers. i now had a trashbag filled with poo ductaped to my arm and pulling out would probably paint the walls a new shade of alt-gray. on the other hand, i could not sit there forever. plus, i wanted to rid myself of this filth i had locked myself into. i decided that while i was there now, i would breakt the brick into as many pieces as i could, then pull back slowly and try to spill as little as i could. 

2 minutes later i had somewhat succeded, there was only a few spills and i had managed to let the waterlevel drop a bit. the bag was soaking and my fingers felt like i had dough between them but soon i would be able to solve all this. 
so yeah. i had the brilliant idea to flush once more and see if i could flush out the remaining blockage in the process...

the water rose and rose and rose at what seemed an accelerating pace. it flooded over the sides, onto the spare rolls of toilet paper, forming a new mesh of brown water tragedy and toilet paper. bits of poopery shrapnel covered the floor . i had no idea how much water was held in the tank but clearly it was enough to flow everywhere over the bathroom floor. everything was covered in shit, including me, garbage bag filled with poopchunks still ductaped to my arm.

i gave up. 
i cleaned up the floor to the best of my abilities, closed the lid on the toilet, threw the stacks of papers and magazines in a garbage bag (this one had no hole in it), washed my arm, put on a fresh change of clothes and left a note on the door: "do not use. too much poo. truly sorry."

i left the studio right afterwards and went back to my hotel, giving up on anything the day would bring me. a few hours later, i receive a phonecall and all i can hear is the hysterical laughter of mr jingles who told me he had received my message. i offered to pay for the plumber but he told me he had troubles with it all the time. i did not tell him about the true scale f the event but i think he somewhat got the gist, based on the aftermath of having no more rolls of paper and magazines in his bathroom. 

i had the best few days afterwards where i  worked at his studio during the day and he brought me to clubs at night. oh the wonders a bit of poo can do. but yeah, word of advice: whenever visiting a bathroom for the first time: be sure to heed the instructions before unleashing hell upon yourself. 0/10 would not recommend.

TIFU by invoking a tsunami of poo in a legendary music producer's studio