This past weekend was a bit of a road trip for me and some training partners.

Karen, our female 148er and her fiancé James were competing in York, so a few of us made the trip out to help. Since we'd be missing our normal Sunday training session in NJ, we decided to kill two birds with one stone and train wth our friends at Atlantic City Barbell on Saturday instead. ACBB, owned by top-ranked multi-ply (and raw) lifter Bob Merkh is what every great basement gym should be. Its basically a rape cellar, with weights and LOTS of whisky.

We had a great session, squatting with the Duffalo bar and an average band for triples. I made it up to 620. The triples were really hard, because I never do them, and my back hasn't been the same since, lol. After the training we put on an obscene display of gluttony at a local hibachi joint.

As we were finishing up dinner, a familiar feeling came over me... I had to poop... soon. I probably could have just gone into the restaurant bathroom to take care of business, but I was going straight from AC to York to stay overnight, in a hotel. Which would mean the chance to poop in a clean, quiet hotel room... alone.

As every parent, or prison inmate knows, pooping undisturbed is one of the rarest of luxuries, and worthy of indulging in at almost cost. My son has made it his life's work to insure that I never have to feel the loneliness and isolation of pooping alone... ever.

Sometimes he will yell through the door "DADDY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING???" over and over.

Other times, he decided that he has to go worse, and when told to wait his turn, will repeat "Daddy are you done yet?" every 30 seconds.

One of his favorite moves, after being kicked out is to stand outside of the bathroom and just twist the doorknob back and forth, back and forth.

Standing right in front of me and just string at me like a serial killer is always a good standby.

I really thought he would have grown out of this phase by 14.

Kidding, kidding, he's 3

Usually though, he just wants me to play with him, and in the grand scheme of things, my alone time on the can will never mean as much to me as enjoying these moments with him while I still can.

But still though.

Back to the restaurant... Sure, I could have just dropped a quick deuce in the dingy hibachi joint, but as I get older, I'm starting to appreciate the finer things in life, and the thought of a quiet room all to myself, without a family member within 150 miles was just too good to past up.

Sure, the 2+ hour drive would be risky, but that would just make the reward even greater.

Of course, the drive took over 3 hours with traffic, capped by waiting another 15 minutes to check in because the two guests in front of me BOTH needed to speak to the manager about whateverthefuck, but I made it.

And of course, not 5 minutes in to my session on the throne, there was a knock on the door, followed by a loud rattle of the handle. I made it to the door, cursing under my breath, then opened it to fine a confused old woman who thought it was her room.

Maybe next meet.

On a less depressing note, Karen and James both had 8/9 days with lots of big prs, including a 500 squat at 148 multi-ply for Karen. Karen will is on track to be a phenomenal lifter, as long as we don't give her any clue as to how strong she actually is already. James, not to be outdone added over 100lbs to his total.

The day ran smoothly overall, and was a typically well-run meet at York. The meet also afforded me another opportunity to creep on the very milfy Ellen Chaillet.

All in all, a good weekend. It sucked a little to be away from my family on Father's day, but in all honesty, we don't really get all worked up about holidays (my wife and I BOTH forgot our 5th wedding anniversary yesterday), and I got to spend the weekend around the sport I love.

Maybe next time, I'll get to poop in peace as well.