Today I drove down to my mom's house. I left at 9am (which, by the way, marks the 14th day in a row that I have gotten up before 10. Amazing!) and was supposed to meet Dawn at Starbucks. Unfortunately, that particular Starbucks closed down a few months ago, so we had to eat at McDonald's in a gas station. Yummo.
Then I went to my mom's and took some pictures of Norah and ate a tamale. With my tamale I enjoyed a Dr Pepper and two glasses of water. Then when we were getting ready to leave, I grabbed a large latte to take with me.
This was a bad move. A terrible move. An idiot of a move, in line with all the times I decided to go shopping in a thunderstorm. In order to understand how terrible this move was, the drinking of all the drinks, you would have to have known me when I was young. As a child, my entire family dreaded riding in a car for any length of time with me because I invariably had to pee every 3.5 minutes. I could dehydrate myself for hours before a trip but still, as soon as we were in the car and on the road I would feel that familiar pressure on my bladder. Something about the bouncing and the seat belt just kills me. I have peed in thousands of rest stops and gas stations, I cannot count the number of highways we have pulled off so I could pee in the bushes. I have never had the luxury of being picky about the places I use the restroom in. When you have a bladder as small as mine, you quickly learn that any filthy toilet is better than peeing in the car seat and having to sit there, wet, while everyone else snickers and scoots away from your puddles.
So with this knowledge in mind, look back at all the liquids I consumed before setting off on an hour long drive. One Dr Pepper, two glasses of water, and a large latte. An hour in the car with, literally, no rest stops or gas stations.
So 20 minutes into the drive, I feel it. And I think to myself, "Well maybe there is some kind of gas station or restaurant where I could stop." Nope. Unless I wanted to stop at that one gas station that looked like the perfect spot to film a slasher film. So I started looking for good pull off's and for whatever reason, only found ones that were in front of a house or a barn or embarrassingly devoid of bushes. So I kept telling myself that I would stop at the next good flat space, no matter what. But I never did. I just kept driving and waiting for my heavenly port-a-potty.
And just when I was sure I was going to pee in the car and in my new jeans, Siloam came into view. I pulled into the first gas station I saw and nearly punched a kindly old man who was sure he knew me, he just didn't know where from.
Then when I got back into the car I dumped coffee all over the seat. At least it wasn't pee.