This post has nothing to do with what I normally write about. However, it is very awkward and typical of my life, so here it goes:
It was a warm Monday evening. My sister Shannon and I decided it would be perfect if we spent our night under the stars watching Despicable Me 2 at the local drive-in movie theater.
On the way over, we sang songs and danced merrily in the car. We are best friends. We GET each other. She is the peanut butter to my jelly; the cookie to my milk. It was going to be a most wonderful night….
When we finally arrived, we decided to park our car right in the front row for maximum screen viewing.
However, moments later, I felt a sensation.
A pressure down below.
A full bladder.
I confessed to Shannon the devastating news. She munched on her stick of beef jerky and laughed at my predicament. But this was no laughing matter.
I had no choice; I had to use the drive-in bathroom.
At first, I thanked the Lord Almighty that the bathroom was not a porta-potty. Maybe luck was on my side after all. I found the women’s bathroom was located on the side of a shack-like building. The roof was crooked and the red door was made for the citizens of Munchkin Land. Unfortunately, I was not in Oz.
The red door squeaked loudly upon opening. Immediately there was a step down into a small cave-like space. Further, another step down led to what appeared to be some small, blue wooden doors. The entire space was dimly lit by a singular pathetic florescent light. The ceilings grazed my head, the walls were filthy, and impending doom hung in the air.
The illustration below actually makes the space look good:
After my initial shock, I pressed forward. There were two stalls; I chose the one on the left. As I entered, I crashed into the toilet with my legs, turned around and shut the swinging door. However, I then realized that the door was also short in stature. I could clearly see over the door, and anybody standing outside could very easily poke their head in and watch me as I do the business. I knew I needed to get in and out fast before someone else came in.
As soon as I had emptied my bladder, I heard someone come in. I dashed out of there like a cheetah. Faster than a cheetah, maybe. Like, if I was racing a cheetah, I would’ve won.
Back in the car, Shannon was still munching away at her jerky stick. Being my younger sister, it was her job to ask me the obvious and annoying question:
Then it hit me: I forgot to wash my hands.
I was so terrified of being in there, I peed and ran out. Now, I was covered in the most germiest germs imaginable.
We searched the car like wild animals for any kind of hand sanitizer, or wipe, or something. Suddenly, Shannon thought of an idea:
Yea right. No way on earth was I going to rub my germ hands all over her deodorant and feel any cleaner. Although, props to Shan for creative on-the-spot thinking.
So I went back to the bathroom shack of horrors and found the tiny sink. Again, made for the people of Munchkin Land.
Darn it all, I wasn’t there to wash my knees. I WAS THERE TO WASH MY HANDS.
I scrubbed my fingers and palms and again dashed out the red door, mortified that I had to go in there TWICE.
**Note: Ignore the fact that my outfit changed from black pants to pink shorts. I made these illustrations on two different days and apparently, I wanted a wardrobe change.
Where was I…oh yes, so back in the car, with my hands now clean, I was finally able to relax and enjoy the movie with my sister. Despicable Me 2 was really good and heart-warming and junk.
Moral of the story…
Let this be a lesson to all: Empty your bladder before you leave the house, or you might end up having to pee in a dilapidated shack from Munchkin Land and then be tempted to rub your hands on deodorant. Not to mention….PSYCHOLOGICAL SCARS FOR LIFE.