After a long drive, then a short night and an early morning, I prepared to eat some rejuvenating oatmeal, but first I made a bleary-eyed trip to what I thought would be the Black Hills National Forest's finest fecal facility.

My alarm didn't fully wake me up, but the absolute left hook of a nasal punch emanating from the Comanche Park toilets put a Zeus-lightning-like jolt through every cell in my body, sending me sprawling backwards. After a short recovery period, I returned to the ring, and put on a spectacular defensive showing, covering my nose, and breathing through my shirt, avoiding the attacks on all sides. Though the judges gave the fight to the outhouse, I felt lucky to escape with my life and sanity.

The relaxing, coniferous and edenic forest did its best to comfort me as I attempted to return to my oatmeal, but you and I both know that oatmeal isn't that appetizing in the first place. As the staff came around to check us out, I didn't have the heart or courage to share my story, so here it is.

4 out of 5 stars, not for the faint of heart (or nose).