- Bathroom Musings -
(Let 'Em In - Paul McCartney)
I'm on the highway, belting down I-35 with my wife to go see my brother and his family, and about 10 minutes out, my bowels announce that, on a number of levels, I've chosen poorly. Now, I'm not a novice to situations like this, so I have a reasonable gauge for just how long I have until main engineering has to be evacuated. Still, I'm humble before the power that my colon wields, and I announce to my wife that we may have to pull off at the highway-side gas station that's about 5 minutes out from my brother's home.
We pull off the highway and onto the main straight where the gas station -- and salvation -- is located, and in that moment, I decide that I am a master of things both within and without, and elect to drive past safe harbor so that I can do battle on the familiar turf that is my brother's lavatory.
This is when I lost control of the situation.
I'm moments from being able to turn off the main road to the street where my brother's home is located, and...traffic has come to a dead stop. Real panic sets in at that point, because I've gambled with my dignity, my shorts, and indeed my new car's upholstery that I'd been able to get to my destination swiftly and without incident, and... traffic was halted.
Except that it was only halted in one direction. Traffic was moving, albeit slowly, in the other direction, and my brain was too busy trying to avert disaster to understand why. I mutter something about flipping a U-Turn in the middle of the road so that I can at least make some headway back to the gas station, and my wife, without a single trace of amusement, informs me that I cannot do this. When I ask her why, she calmly informs me that the reason why traffic is stopped one way and running slowly in the other is because we've somehow found our way into the middle of a funeral procession.
"It's okay," she assures me. "It'll be over in a few minutes."
"Yes dear," I assure her right back, "it most certainly will be over in a few minutes! It'll be ALL OVER in a few minutes!"
Mercifully, the procession ended shortly thereafter and I was able to make it to my brother's house without incident. A man of similar conviction, he understood my need clearly when I let myself into his home, and very calmly pointed me towards the lavatory.
Even in my relief, however, I couldn't help but feel like the universe was Sean Connery in 'The Rock' looking at me with a smirk and murmuring, "I could. You know."
I'm on the highway, belting down I-35 with my wife to go see my brother and his family, and about 10 minutes out, my bowels announce that, on a number of levels, I've chosen poorly. Now, I'm not a novice to situations like this, so I have a reasonable gauge for just how long I have until main engineering has to be evacuated. Still, I'm humble before the power that my colon wields, and I announce to my wife that we may have to pull off at the highway-side gas station that's about 5 minutes out from my brother's home.
We pull off the highway and onto the main straight where the gas station -- and salvation -- is located, and in that moment, I decide that I am a master of things both within and without, and elect to drive past safe harbor so that I can do battle on the familiar turf that is my brother's lavatory.
This is when I lost control of the situation.
I'm moments from being able to turn off the main road to the street where my brother's home is located, and...traffic has come to a dead stop. Real panic sets in at that point, because I've gambled with my dignity, my shorts, and indeed my new car's upholstery that I'd been able to get to my destination swiftly and without incident, and... traffic was halted.
Except that it was only halted in one direction. Traffic was moving, albeit slowly, in the other direction, and my brain was too busy trying to avert disaster to understand why. I mutter something about flipping a U-Turn in the middle of the road so that I can at least make some headway back to the gas station, and my wife, without a single trace of amusement, informs me that I cannot do this. When I ask her why, she calmly informs me that the reason why traffic is stopped one way and running slowly in the other is because we've somehow found our way into the middle of a funeral procession.
"It's okay," she assures me. "It'll be over in a few minutes."
"Yes dear," I assure her right back, "it most certainly will be over in a few minutes! It'll be ALL OVER in a few minutes!"
Mercifully, the procession ended shortly thereafter and I was able to make it to my brother's house without incident. A man of similar conviction, he understood my need clearly when I let myself into his home, and very calmly pointed me towards the lavatory.
Even in my relief, however, I couldn't help but feel like the universe was Sean Connery in 'The Rock' looking at me with a smirk and murmuring, "I could. You know."
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