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: about two weeks ago at work we had a going away lunch for one of my coworkers. he was a huge fan of this bbq place called willard’s, so we ordered takeout. i knew i wanted to get an open-faced sandwich – my go-to meal whenever it’s on the menu – but couldn’t decide between the turkey and the brisket. while the brisket sounded better at the time, i decided to go with the turkey because it would probably be a bit easier on my stomach. i gave my order to my coworker, who ordered for everyone over the phone and went to pick it up. when she returned with the food, she told me the restaurant didn’t actually have turkey (why they didn’t say that when she placed the order on the phone, i don’t know) so she got me the brisket instead…

without traffic, my drive home is about 30 minutes, and with traffic it can take as long as an hour. i left my office at 6pm. everything felt fine as i pulled out of the parking lot, but about two minutes later, out of nowhere, the brisket tried to use the emergency exit. i was approaching a very important intersection: going straight through would lead to a gas station that may or may not have a bathroom; right would lead to a plaza with a subway and chipotle, among many other shops with public restrooms; and left would put me onto an access road leading onto the first of two major highways on my way home with nowhere to stop until i reached my apartment. i was tired from staying late at work, and really didn’t feel like stopping to poop. i convinced myself that while it was pretty bad at the moment, it would probably come and go in waves, and i could ride it out until i got home like i had done so many times before.

now is a good time to mention i am no stranger to this situation. over the last few years, i have developed anxiety from finding myself in situations where i needed to poop but had nowhere to go. even if i didn’t have to poop, knowing i wouldn’t be able to poop if i needed to would make me need to poop. these anxiety poops were most prevalent in the car, as there is usually no readily available bathroom while driving. after so many close calls in the car, i began to keep a stash of plastic shopping bags in the mesh pocket behind my passenger seat, just in case… a last resort. the closest i had ever come to shitting in a plastic bag in my car was on my way to work one morning two summers ago, in a very similar situation – i had just gone through the last intersection with access to public restrooms before i got to the office, and found myself sitting bare-ass on a frantically placed plastic bag while driving 55 mph in four lanes of traffic (there was construction on the left shoulder and there was a barrier instead of a right shoulder, so no place to pull over). some one or some thing must have been watching over me that day, because as i was about to let loose all over the bag that was in no way covering the entire seat or enclosing my entire ass, enough gas came out to relieve the pressure just enough to make it the rest of the way to the office toilet. with that in mind…

i found myself on the access road leading to the major highway… the poop had subsided for a brief period, but then came back with a vengeance. without traffic, i was about 25 minutes from home, with nowhere to stop and poop without exploring a random exit. but like i said, it was 6pm on a thursday. my access road merged into a second access road, which then merged into the right lane of a three-lane highway with frequent traffic lights. rush hour traffic was so bad, i was at a standstill on the first access road. to my right were some shops, but they were back up the hill i had just come down, and the only way back would be to turn around on the shoulder and go the wrong way back up the one-way access road. it was at this point, sitting still in all of this traffic at the beginning of this long journey home, that i knew i was shit out of luck. i grabbed the bags from behind the seat and put them on the seat next to me. i was wearing dress clothes – a button down shirt, tie, dress pants, dress socks, and dress shoes. i undid my belt to ease the pressure – didn’t help much. i took off my watch and rolled up my sleeves – i knew this was going to get messy. took the belt all the way off. i had stared fate in the eye so many times before, yelling “not this day!” but it seemed that my day of reckoning was finally upon me. i put the flashers on and pulled over to the shoulder of the access road. i pulled my pants and underwear down to my thighs, rolled my shirt up my back, and began to slide the bag underneath. i knew from my last experience with the bags that i really had to carefully and precisely place the bag so that rather than sitting on it, i was sitting in it. i did the best i could. my sphincter, toned and hardened from holding back countless shit storms, not so dissimilar to leonidas’s 300 spartans holding off thousands of persians, was growing weaker. at ease, old friend, at ease… then it happened.

if you haven’t shit yourself recently, let me tell you – it feels wrong – and i don’t mean the feeling of relief shrouded in a sloppy veil of regret and disdain. rather than falling straight down into an open toilet, the way i was sitting was forcing the crazed butthole evacuation down and forward in the direction of my knees. in addition to that, i wasn’t sitting very high off the bag/seat. both of these factors caused this brisket bomb to explode all over my ass, taint, and the back of my legs. the feeling of poop mushing up against the lower part of your buttcheeks is such an unnatural feeling that nobody should ever have to feel. it was so wet and mushy, and it came it pulses – the only way i can describe it is like a soft serve ice cream machine spewing out the last bit of ice cream, leaking out in mushy pulses with the occasional somewhat solid glob. 

when it was all over, i carefully pulled the bag out and noticed a pile of poop in it – at least i had caught some of it. i put that bag in another bag to keep it from breaking or leaking. i found some napkins nearby and did one full-palmed wipe, and that napkin was soaked. top to bottom and side to side. i put that in the poop bag, tied it up, then triple bagged it. i did get some poop on my finger while wiping, so i put on some hand sanitizer – i had bigger issues than a little poo on my finger. my ass, grundle, and legs are still soaked in my own shit. keep in mind i’m still sitting in stop and go traffic, so there are other cars literally right next to me – anyone in a truck or suv could easily look down into my sedan and witness these horrors unfolding – but that was the least of my worries. i knew i would have to sacrifice my undies to protect my pants and car seat. i pulled them up with my pants, and just felt them absorb the wet poop covering that area - you’ve never truly had swamp ass until you’ve driven 30 minutes sitting in your own diarrhea.

i composed myself and got back on the road. while situated at a traffic light, i tried to shimmy around to see if the bag had done its job or if i had gotten any poop on the seat. while the car was in park as i was shitting, i was still in drive at this point, so without thinking, my foot left the brake and i nearly rear-ended the car in front of me as i was checking to see if i had shit on my car seat. i hit the brake just in time, and narrowly avoided an extremely awkward encounter – getting out of my car to consult the driver of the car i just hit, covered in my own shit. although, i would like to think there are still some good people in this world, and that they would have understood, or at least took some pity on the poor soul who just shat in a bag in his car.
 
i didn’t see any poop on the seat, and was finally good and on my way, and the worst of it was over… or so i thought… about 10 minutes away from my apartment, the feeling came back. i’m already covered in my own shit, sitting next to a bag of my own shit, and need to shit again. only this time, i’m out of bags. the bags, my contingency plan, were meant as a last resort. i hoped i would never have to use them in the first place, but never considered the scenario where i had already used them and needed more… i considered my options. i couldn’t go into a building to use a public restroom, because i was literally covered in my own shit and didn’t know what sort of damage my pants had taken. i had a raincoat on the floor next to me, but didn’t want to poop in that. since i didn’t have anything else to poop in inside the car, i could pull over and poop outside the car, but i was on the highway and there weren’t many wooded areas i could go into. i decided against creating a poop shield with both the front and back passenger doors because it would be too difficult and messy to squat on the side of the road with diarrhea. my only option, after already shitting in a bag in my car and sitting in my own shit smoothie… was to just shit my pants.

i was wearing tight underwear that really hugged my thighs, so i had to think about where the poop would go if it filled the underwear up and overflowed. i pulled my pants and underwear up a bit higher to prevent spillage out the back. i knew that if i were to shit my pants and walk anywhere, it would undoubtedly run down my legs, so to avoid it spilling out of my pants onto my shoes, car floor, or the carpet of my apartment, i tucked my pant legs into my dress socks – this is tough to do with one hand while driving. i drove through the pain and made it to the last major traffic light – from here it was one more light, then the home stretch down my road. i needed to turn right, and was the only one in the right turn lane, but traffic was so thick that i couldn’t find a gap to go right on red. at this point, i needed to poop so bad that my sphincter and penis were both literally throbbing in rhythm. it was as if the time i sat on the bag in four lanes of 55 mph traffic, the time i was with a friend in his dad’s truck and had to ask to stop at 2 gas stations and a rite-aid before finally finding a bathroom at a dunkin donuts (after already asking, stopping, and pooping at another dunkin donuts about 10 minutes earlier), and the time i had the ghost pepper sauce at buffalo wild wings and drove home, were all just practice for my sphincter, leading up to this very moment. since i couldn’t find a gap, i was watching the crosswalk timer in front of me, counting down from 18, to try to perfectly time the light change. when it got to 0, it started over. it did that three times. i was screaming and banging on the steering wheel, and literally whimpering. i finally found a gap and got into the left turn lane at the next light, a big line of cars in front of me. the light changed, and i didn’t give a fuck what color that left turn arrow was when i got to it, i was making it through that light. i got through, and was on my road, just over a mile to go. then all of the cars in front of me stopped. there was a bus in front of me that was stopping on and off. more screaming and banging on the steering wheel ensued. do i bargain with the devil, or can i make it one last mile… traffic finally cleared and i sped to my parking lot. i ran inside and just made it to the toilet. i finally purged myself of this wretched demon, as pure liquid came bursting through the tattered flood gates. bits of poop that had been drying on my ass for 30 minutes flaked off on the seat. i started wiping and it was like trying to mop up juice with cardboard. i stood up and looked at myself in the mirror – everything from my beltline to a few inches down the back of my thighs was covered in a yellowish brown shit. i got in the shower and cleaned up – then it was time to assess the damage. i didn’t even look at the underwear, i immediately threw it out. but it had done its job, and will be immortalized as a martyr through the sharing of this tale (moment of silence). my pants were mostly clean except for a bit of wetness right in the seam where there was pressure from the points of contact of my butt on the seat. there was also another small ring of wetness on the beltline. my dress shirt was mostly clean as well, with only a few small wet rings near the bottom where it must have been dragging. i sprayed them thoroughly with stain remover and put them through two wash cycles – i wasn’t about to throw out a nice dress shirt and pair of dress pants just because i pooped on them a little. the car seat was completely clean except for one dime sized stain right in the center (i assume it leaked through my pants) which came right out with some cleaning solution. 

as this happened a few weeks ago, i have since made a new and improved poop-on-the-go kit: three 13 gallon garbage bags with drawstrings – one black and two clear – for pooping in and covering the seat, two pairs of rubber gloves, paper towels, baby wipes, a pair of dark colored underwear, and athletic shorts, all in a duffel bag. i will be looking into getting a bedpan or some sort of plastic container that i can poop in.

with all that said… the brisket was delicious.

TIFU by getting the brisket and trying to drive home