Confessional w/ Reed Hansen

A lot of people would be too embarrassed to tell a story like this, but the way I see it, everyone has probably done this at some point in their lives. The timing of mine, however, is beyond perfect.

reed hansen wakeskate
Party Pooper WBM

I was 16 years old, and it was the first time I convinced my parents to let me travel to a contest without them. So not only was I getting to go to the Pro Wakeboard Tour sans parental chaperones, but I was also going to get to room with my older brother, Trevor, and his pro-wakeboarder friends that I had grown up looking up to. This was something I had dreamed about for years, and finally, it was here — my first day on my own.

The “pro” accommodations consisted of Trevor, JD Webb, Derek Grasman, Chris Law and myself sharing one room together. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was. It was just me and the boys for a weekend of pro wakeboarding. We spent the first night straight up killing it (at least, in terms of what my 16-year-old definition of “killing it” was). We stayed up late, watched movies, and kicked it with other pros in the hotel. I was in awe the whole time and probably had a dumb grin smeared across my face from ear to ear. It’s a night I’ll never forget.


The next morning, I was the first one up. I will never forget the feeling; it was pure bliss. I had finally arrived. I looked around at all of my new ­pro-wakeboarding buddies, and with both arms behind my head, I sighed and thought, This is the life.

As I did, I squeezed out a nice, normal morning fart. Except this was no normal fart. It was much more than a fart, and not the kind of “more” that can easily be cleaned up and carried off to the bathroom to be flushed away. This was the kind of more that immediately ran through my boxers. Yep, the kind that left me lying there in bed next to one of my idols (JD Webb) in a little puddle of my own feces.

At first, I had no idea what to do; my mind was racing trying to come up with a reason for this. I couldn’t believe I was about to ruin my first weekend away on the PWT with the pros by pooping the bed. But then I realized everybody else in the room was still passed out, so I did what I knew I had to do. I reached over to my bag, grabbed a towel, wrapped myself up, put my covers over the evidence, and hustled into the shower.


By the time I got out of the shower, the guys were getting up. I was nervous … especially when Chris Law sat on my side of the bed. I was agonizing over what I would say if one of them happened to pull the sheets back, or even smell something. I hoped the sheets covered it up enough. With sweaty palms and a racing mind, I stayed quiet. Somehow, nobody noticed. We left to get some food and go over to the event site for a bit, and by the time we got back, the cleaning ladies had come through and changed out the bedding. I was in the clear!

Nobody ever found out what happened that morning. In fact, they still haven’t. Those guys will all learn about my little accident by reading this. And that right there is my crappy story.


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