I guess I've become that kind of person who, the minute they get in the car to go anywhere kinda far away, has to piss like an elephant who REALLY has to fucking piss. And I've completely given up on that whole, "Well, there's a rest stop here but I think I can hold it for another 40 miles until the next one" bullshit, because I've learned that I pretty much can't hold it for another 40 miles. Or even "a" mile. And I think one of the main reasons I've become "Yuri Nation" is that, like a moron, I tend to drink about a gallon of green tea right before I hit the road. Green tea may have high levels of anti-oxidants, but drinking a shitload before a road-trip can lead to a high level of "panty-accidents."
Going to Chicago, I made sure to hit pretty much every rest area, whether I had to go or not. It worked out pretty well until I got on the Skyway. Once you get on that fucker, you better be wearing some hip-waders, 'cuz there's pretty much nowhere to stop. I was doing pretty well until I got past the last toll booth and traffic basically stopped. That's where it narrows down to one lane as it feeds into the Dan Ryan. I sat there for a good 40 minutes, while my ureter filled up like a goddamn balloon-animal weinerdog. I tried not to think too much about the pain, as I frantically scanned the car for any receptacle options. CD case? Nope. Altoid box? Curiously small. Aquafina bottle? No way -- the opening was too small and bad aim could end up spraying the inside of the car a la a thumb over a garden hose.
Why did I stop drinking those Sobe drinks?! Sure, they were pricey, but they had that nice, wide opening at the top. Those things are practically hand-held urinals. Damn!
Eventually, traffic started up again and I was able to zip over to the office before I completely blew out an O-ring. No time for any cordial "Hellos," as I dashed into the bathroom and let loose with a stream that probably raised the level of the Chicago River about 3 inches.
Coming back today wasn't as bad -- I had a couple of beers at the show last night and woke up painfully dehydrated. I made sure not to introduce a single drop of liquid into my parched system and, while I felt like I was basically freeze-dried, I zipped past the rest stops with anhydrous abandon.
It really is fantastic turning into an old man. I can't wait until I go blind and my craps stop coming out. Oh well... gotta go do some kegels -- and HOLD - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5...
4 comments:
I got caught in the same situation on that SAME friggin strip of construction/bridge/tollhell (with 2 other people in the car). It went from 'whoo! ha ha, I gotta GO!' to a sobbing, whispered, 'i can't do this, i can't do this.'
Seriously. I cried. I've never cried from needing to pee before. it was bad.
I wish I could have cried -- at least I would've been releasing some liquid that way. I didn't cry but I was literally yelling in the car, "PLEASE DON'T LET ME PEE MY PANTS! PLEASE DON'T LET ME PEE MY PANTS! OW! OOWWWW!!"
I got a speeding ticket in New Mexico because I was worried I was going to crap my pants.
So, Arnie, what happened while you were sitting there getting the ticket? Did you get another ticket for illegal dumping?
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