"Happiness was Provo in the rear view mirror..."-Jim McMahon.
We had a great time in Utah, but tax returns, financial statements, and the exciting world of accounting was calling me back. We said our goodbyes and loaded up the car for a 9 hour drive.
I did all the driving whilst everyone else slept the night away. I only stopped for gas, and for one other thing. I drank a few 32 ounce Powerades on the drive back. Large Marge hadn't started up a conversation yet, so I thought I was doing pretty good. I wanted to keep going as far as I could without getting sleepy. So, I thought that my bladder could wait.
I was wrong. At about the halfway point I had to hurriedly pull off of the freeway and water the road. It was pitch black out by that time and not a big deal. I thought I had gotten as close to the line of wetting myself as possible without crossing it.
I was wrong, because about an hour away from our house I felt the urge again. I kept telling myself that we were almost home and I just needed to hold it a little longer. I was sweating and I could feel every little bump in the road. My bladder was full of pain(and urine). I finally gave up hope of making it home, and decided I would pull off at the next exit with a gas station. Except, with every passing off ramp there were no stations. I was really getting worried at that point. It was early morning and I couldn't just pull to the side of the road and use the cloak of the evening sky as I had before. But, I had to do something. So, I pulled off the next off-ramp to find two highway patrol cars sitting there. I got back on the freeway hoping the next exit would have some sort of bathroom. It didn't. At this point I was doing the pee pee dance in my seat. The pain intensified and it seemed like the road got more bumpy. I had gotten to a point where I worried that even if I found a place, I wouldn't make it out of the car in time. Determined not to let my bowels win I turned into the first driveway I could. As I was unbuckling my belt and unzipping my shorts I pulled the car to a stop, jumped out and ran to the nearest bush. I had made it just in time. The pain continued to flow as if my bladder were scolding me for waiting so long. Adding to the displeasure was the fact that I was in the parking lot of an evangelist church. It was early Sunday morning and I hoped nobody would pull up as I was "watering" the landscaping. I was picturing the aftermath of me being arrested for public urination and being charged with some sort of hate crime. But, the nightmare never developed. After what seemed like 5 minutes I zipped up and drove the rest of the way home. And that is the end of our trip to Utah.
We had a great time in Utah, but tax returns, financial statements, and the exciting world of accounting was calling me back. We said our goodbyes and loaded up the car for a 9 hour drive.
I did all the driving whilst everyone else slept the night away. I only stopped for gas, and for one other thing. I drank a few 32 ounce Powerades on the drive back. Large Marge hadn't started up a conversation yet, so I thought I was doing pretty good. I wanted to keep going as far as I could without getting sleepy. So, I thought that my bladder could wait.I was wrong. At about the halfway point I had to hurriedly pull off of the freeway and water the road. It was pitch black out by that time and not a big deal. I thought I had gotten as close to the line of wetting myself as possible without crossing it.
I was wrong, because about an hour away from our house I felt the urge again. I kept telling myself that we were almost home and I just needed to hold it a little longer. I was sweating and I could feel every little bump in the road. My bladder was full of pain(and urine). I finally gave up hope of making it home, and decided I would pull off at the next exit with a gas station. Except, with every passing off ramp there were no stations. I was really getting worried at that point. It was early morning and I couldn't just pull to the side of the road and use the cloak of the evening sky as I had before. But, I had to do something. So, I pulled off the next off-ramp to find two highway patrol cars sitting there. I got back on the freeway hoping the next exit would have some sort of bathroom. It didn't. At this point I was doing the pee pee dance in my seat. The pain intensified and it seemed like the road got more bumpy. I had gotten to a point where I worried that even if I found a place, I wouldn't make it out of the car in time. Determined not to let my bowels win I turned into the first driveway I could. As I was unbuckling my belt and unzipping my shorts I pulled the car to a stop, jumped out and ran to the nearest bush. I had made it just in time. The pain continued to flow as if my bladder were scolding me for waiting so long. Adding to the displeasure was the fact that I was in the parking lot of an evangelist church. It was early Sunday morning and I hoped nobody would pull up as I was "watering" the landscaping. I was picturing the aftermath of me being arrested for public urination and being charged with some sort of hate crime. But, the nightmare never developed. After what seemed like 5 minutes I zipped up and drove the rest of the way home. And that is the end of our trip to Utah.
1 comment:
Very entertained reading this. I too went through a very similar situation and you described the experience to the tee.
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