My stomach picked the hotel lobby as a sprint track

I’m usually the person who can eat a sad conference sandwich and keep moving, but this trip my gut decided to freelance. Two hotel breakfasts, one questionable chicken skewer, and suddenly I’m doing the walk-of-shame down a long carpeted hallway counting door numbers. Not asking for medical advice, just wondering how other frequent travelers handle the logistics. I now pack a little pouch with wipes, spare underwear, and a plastic bag, plus I scope out the nearest bathroom before I sit through a session. It’s glamorous. The weight-loss side is fine; appetite is low, so I’m mostly eating yogurt and crackers I trust. Any road-tested tricks for keeping your dignity and your schedule when your stomach goes rogue?