That One Time I Almost Peed My Pants

Have you ever really had to pee?  I am sure you have.  We all have.  But is there one time in particular that stands out in your mind?  Like, it still hurts you to think about all that pressure in your bladder?  

I remember ALL too well that time I almost (died of water intoxication) peed my pants.

My family and I were at a cottage for a few weeks one summer when I was 18.  The same cottage as the bathing suit fiasco. In the 70s my father and his best friend used to pack up his shitty little car and drive a thousand hours away to a crappy little fishing lodge in a place called Temagami.  Pretty much up North, and out in the middle of nowhere.  Since the particular cottage we were staying at was only about 2 hours away from said fishing lodge, my father thought it would be fun to drive up there again, for old times sake.  My brother and I thought, "sure, why the hell not?  Not like there is anything else to do".  So we stopped at a fast food joint for some lunch before we headed on our way.  

I decided to drink an extra large, super size, gut busting, no one's stomach can stretch that much, soft drink.  And then I finished half of my brothers'.  And we were on our way!

About half an hour into the drive, I had to pee.  It was only a nagging bit of pressure, nothing to fret about.  EXCEPT THERE WAS.  Do you have any idea where we were?  Out in the middle of nowhere, that's where.  Now, I have no aversion to squatting in nature and relieving myself.  No shame.  Only we were driving through the Canadian Shield.  Anyone have an idea of what that looks like? 

Behold:

And again:

You see what I mean?  This shit stretches along at a blinding rate of  8,000,000 km (3,088,817 sq mi).  Damn.  Nowhere to squat you see?  Not if I wanted every single person out driving that day to see my girly bits.  I was in a jam.  So I did what any lady would do and I crammed my hand between my legs.  That should stop things up nice.

It worked for another half hour, and by then it was more than just a bit of pressure, it was a full on crushing weight that I am sure did irrevocable damage to my bladder and kidneys.  I didn't think I could hold it any longer, and I was starting to tear up a bit from the indignity of it all.  Every bump we drove over seemed to make it even more clear that I wasn't going to make it, and the pain was bad.  People die from that shit man!  

Finally, when I was really starting to think of just letting it all go, right then and there, we came across a bar where I could go and answer nature's call.  Ok so this bar?  It was out in THE WOODS.  I had to walk away from my parents car on the road (they couldn't leave it), down a slippery slope and towards this creepy, ramshackle hole in the dark woods.  It looked abandoned, and I was scared.  Scared enough to almost pee myself.  I walked in the door and everyone in there stopped what they were doing and stared.  Anyone ever see The Hills Have Eyes?  It felt kind of like that.

 Picture walking into a place like that.  And with every step I took, every old man's eyes followed me.  Seriously, I didn't think I was going to make it out of there.  I made a beeline for the bathroom, which looked like this:

But sweet lawd, I didn't care.  Not one entire bit.  Because the relief I felt at that moment was stupendous.  If I had to die in a dingy hick hole, at least I would have died with a pee smile on my face.

I ran out of there as if my tail was on fire, and I have never again ingested that much liquid in one sitting.  I learned my lesson.

We made it to the fishing lodge, and it was worth it.  There is a picture of my dad on the wall  from '73, in all his hippie glory, proudly displaying the fish he had caught.  He was so happy to see that picture, and I loved my dad a little more that day. 

Good times, except for the pee part.