Have you traveled? Have you ever had to go, really go? You know what I mean... to the bathroom? When it was impossible.
Sometimes the best travel tales are the only funny or interesting in retrospect. They are foten horrible at the moment. Yesterday I had such a moment. We had arose later than normal and had a large lunch. Rather than a leisurely morning to allow things to sort themselves out we set out on the road, myself at the wheel. I should point out that at the moment we find ourselves in Santa Cruz, Ca.
In Texas it seems that every exit on the freeway has half a dozen restaurants, gas stations, restrooms. Here on the coast highway from Santa Cruz to San Francisco the exits seem mostly devoid of business activity. There lies the problem in this tale and that drive yesterday.
Several miles out of town I imeediately felt that rumble in the gut that says stopping is imminent. Scanning the horizon I watched an exit slip by that actully had some semblence of the possibily of a restroom. Knowing from a previous drive the day before that the next exit was quite distant my stomach immediately tightened into a knot.
Miles ticked by and the torment increased until finally in the distanc ehter appeared an exit from the freeway. My stomach forced my eyes to scan the exit, the bushes, the side of the road for possible lacations to find relief. Nothing seemed possible, all offices, homes, open spaces. I whipped the Scion into a side street and up a hill and with drooping hope and twisted bowels realized it was only homes. The road curled upward qucick, each new curve revealing a new home.
How badly has your own body tormented you before? I had no choice but to make the most of a bad situation. This involved grabbing a roll of the only apper available, paper towel, hopping from the Scion with instructiions to Lexi to just drove, and scaling a steep hillside in search of a private moment.
My eyes crested the peak of the hill to reveal the inevitable home. Damn it. I DO NOT CARE. I crossed the drive to the seemingly empty home and slid down a brushy hillside into the closest thing that looked like privacy. Crouching in the scratchy brush with thoughts of poison ivy, snakes, spiders, coastal hillbillies, I did what I had to do! I did.
Of course a car on the private hill would cause a woman to emerge from a nearby home to look aorund, She bore a creepy resemblence to Kathy Bates in the movie 'Misery'. The Scion crept along the rim of the hill slowly, attracting even more attentiion.
Enough of all that. I skulked to the vehicle and slipped into the driver's seat and made my way out of the neighborhood. The woman in the yard avoided all eye contact. Of course the girls thoroughoy enjoyed my moment of weakness and loss of control.
I wonder if one of the homeowners eventually went to the brushy hillside to see what that man was up to. Keep in mind the back of the Scion has 'Alan Around The World.com' on the window.
No angry messages yet!
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