I’m reminded of a tense moment during the drive from Redondo Beach, CA out to Albuquerque, NM last weekend. I’m goin’ down the highway, and there hasn’t been a bathroom for quite some time – and I’m getting really close to just pulling over and remedying the situation. Instead, because I don’t want to get bitten on the ass by something in the shadows in the midst of ‘the deed’, I pull over and check to see how close the nearest rest stop is.
Ok. I can hold out for that long. I think.
It takes roughly ONE MILLION YEARS to get there. And? On the way to the exit, I spot the following sign (granted, this is an image of a different sign – this was about 3:30am at night that I’m driving around).
Are you fucking kidding? Oh god, is the rest stop at…?
why yes. It is.
It is *exactly* on the exit that goes directly to the penitentiary down the road – the one that looks like an enormous shiny, razor sharp cube of penal glowyness.
And? The rest stop is closed.
My bladder starts SCREAMING and yelling, and throwing things at this point, but honestly – even if the frickin’ thing was open at that time of night, I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to use it.
I wait until I’m a few miles down the road, and I honestly can’t take it anymore. I pull over, turn all the lights off, then with my enormous fist full of keys, I bravely give fate the finger and ‘take care a bidness’.
It was uneventful, well – other than the ENORMOUS feeling of physical relief.
I have an interesting life.