Posted by Maculatus on May 11, 2002 at 12:24
MY GOD, I have to pee...
Many things found me in Needham on Sunday, not the
least of which was meeting 'Ms. Brookline' at the Bay
for a chat. Now the location is the crux of the thing;
Montego Bay, a coffe shop. We talked for an hour or
so, during which time I enjoyed the company, a cup of
coffe with far too little sugar, and a raspberry lime-
ricky. Twice I found myself in the bathroom before our
time was up.
At one point, after telling her I had driven into
town, she stated she had been wondering how I would
have gotten there, for no trains run into Needham on
Sunday. 'Silly girl,' I thought, 'I am a veteran of
Mass transit, how foolish of you to think my plans
would be fouled by such nonsense' It was only a few
minutes later that it dawned on me that should no
trains be running into Needham, it stands to reason
that none would be going out...Futz.
Well I decided that I would not bother anyone for a
ride, and would infact walk to Newton Highlands to
catch the green line, accompanying 'Louisa' part of
the way home and then forging on by my lonesome. She
recalled she had left her God-books at a friends house
and would not be joining me.
I made it as far as Walgreens when it struck that it
was warm. warm enough that after three miles I would
be hot. So I swallowed my stubborn pride and called my
most Audacious of lobster friends and meekly asked him
for a lift to the train station. He said okay, and
that he would be there in fifteen.
So I went into Walgreens and bought a big ol' bottle
of water.
Sitting outside, draining the bottle, three kids
attempted to make conversation accross the road. They
mistook me for someone named Bruce. I asked one of
them if he wanted his skull punched in. He didn't
answer, so I figured that was a no. It was at this
point I started to realize, that once more, I needed
to go to the bathroom. I laid off the water.
Lobster-boy came for me soon after and sped me to my
destination, my thoughts distracted by an ever-
building need to tinkle. I thanekd him for the ride
and made my way down the hill to the T-stop. By this
time, the pressure was enormous, and I realized that
it was a long ride to Boston. Taking a quick glance
around, I ducked behind the station and set to relieve
myself, at which point, of course, the trolley
clamoured it's way down the track.
'Well,' I thought, 'It's not THAT far.' I grinned in
a strained fashion at the conductor as I swiped my
pass, and sought a seat away from other people.
Now as fate would have it, the train I had caught
seemed to have a problem, there was something
dreadfully wrong with the axle under my seat and it
rocked back and forth in a most horrendous fashion
over every impurity of track. Normally I would have
ignored such a thing, but circumastances did not allow
me that comfort. I struggled to find a way to sit that
would alleviate this now monstrous force.
As I rode, and rode and rode, I found myself looking
at passing buildings and bushes and thinking how easy
it would be to duck behind one of those and well...you
know. I kid you not, this conductor managed to find
three or four stations that didn't exist before just
to prolong my travel-time and suffering.
My original plan had been to go to Park st., get on
the red line, ride to Somerville where I was going to
retrieve a bag of mine. As I neared the fenway stop, I
knew I would not make it even half that way. I quickly
recalculated the water-pressure and figured I might
make it to Boylston St., where I could quickly run up
to the street-level, across the street into the Little
Building which served as my friends Dormitory, call
him down, go up stiars and use the can.
Bumping and jarring it's way underground, the train
brought about the understanding that even that idea, a
mere four stops away was too much. No, I would
dismount at Copley and half-skip, half-jog to Back
Bay...Public Restroom.
I hobbled up the unmercifully long set of stairs and
into a nightmare. There was a bloody marathon going
on. Something like eighty billion people clogging
Copley square. I'd never make it through that mess
before I exploded. My mind worked quickly, but the
idea died as my eyes swept the area for I saw no port-
a-potee. I worked my way across the street, desperate.
Throngs of people, all with mockingly empty bladders
barred my way.
Thought I could see Back Bay, I knew that in my
weakened state it was much to far off. What could I
do? I stumbled towards the train station, I would give
it a good go, and my friends would know I went out
trying. Through the mob I almost collided with the big
Copper statue of the lady with palette. To my right a
massive building. A massive Library. A massive
*Public* Library. Public Library=Public bathroom. I
quickly raced up the steps, for time was of the
essence. No time did I spend gazing on the marble
splendor of the promenade I entered, straight to the
security guard went I. I stammered some apologetic
query about the location of the facilities.
Down stairs, around corners, across lobbies I tried
to run but the pressure, it was too much. Signs I
followed finally, in a corner of the sub-basement, I
smashed open the door and moved inside. No urinal
could contain my fury, I made for a stall.
Three people started and finished, one after another
before I was through. A man could get addicted to this
kind of neccesity. But I had won, almighty nature had
called, but I put the son-of-a-bitch on hold for like
an hour, then I answered it in the shitter. So ended
this man's...er...small norwegian child's struggle for
release in this cold, hungry, public lavatory-less
world.
Email: macu_latus@hotmail.com