One time, I was on my way back from Victoria's Gastro Pub (the same place where some of us met up in MD but not the same night) with my ex, and I had eaten duck fat fries with poutine and a lobster grilled cheese, and I was wearing a cute white skirt and one of my favorite lacy thongs, and I just had to go so bad all of a sudden out of nowhere. That's how it hits, the lactose intolerance, one minute everything's just dandy, and the next you have cramps and sweats and you're seconds away from your bhole becoming some sort of unholy plasma propulsion engine.
After begging him to pull over because I don't want to shit in his car and the shit is gonna happen whether I want it to or not, he finally gives in, and I managed to make it into the woods along the major road back to Annapolis from Columbia (I forget which one now. the really short interstate that doesn't actually go between states) but of course we were in his car and he is NOT prepared like me with a roll of TP in the trunk, so I had to use my favorite undies to wipe my nasty asty and I left them there because he wouldn't let me take them back with us, even if I put it in a baggie so I could throw them out proper. RIP favorite thong, you were kind and gently to my dirtbutton and I will miss you forever.