To Pee or Not to Pee (Or, Number Two is Number One)

Okay, time for Number 2 of five things some of you won’t know about me.

I once peed on a bus.

I know that you’re thinking, “big deal. She peed on a bus. Anyone who’s ever taken a Greyhound Bus trip longer than two hours has peed on a bus.”

Well, it wasn’t a Greyhound. And here’s the real kicker: there was no bathroom on the bus in question.

So maybe you’re thinking that I still in diapers at the time. Or maybe just a little kid who couldn’t hold it.

Nope.

I was 18 years old, wearing a dress, pantyhose and heels, and on my way home from Disneyland in Anaheim to San Diego at 5:00 in the morning.

Now maybe you’re thinking I couldn’t possibly have had a good reason for my action. So I’ll give you a little background.

1. I have had kidney and bladder problems since I was about five years old. This has always necessitated frequent trips to the bathroom and advice from my doctor to never wait too long or it could cause problems later on in life. My bladder is rumored to be so small that people have offered to leave me their normal sized bladders in their will, should they croak before I do.

2. My friends and I were at Grad Night the date in question and had taken speed to keep us awake. I had never taken speed before and was told it was like a No-Doze with a little extra oomph. What I wasn’t told is that it also acted as a diuretic. It also dehydrated me, so I drank a bunch of soda throughout the night.

Not a good combination when a two hour bus ride home is involved.

Before you say, “Well, you should have gone before you left,” let me assure you that I did. Several times. In quick succession as we made our way from Space Mountain to the front entrance of the park. It did me no good. A half hour into the bus ride I knew I was in trouble.

I tried holding it for a bit, figuring we’d pull off at the rest stop past San Clemente. I made my way up to the front of the bus to ask the driver if this would be the case. The driver was a woman and I figured she’d understand; most women don’t have the male capacity to hold it for hours on end and then relieve themselves in a five minute stream all in one go. She’d understand my plight.

Of course, I didn’t mention the speed, but I did tell her that I had kidney problems, that I was in a lot of pain, and couldn’t we please pull off at the rest stop. The driver (who in my mind, has taken on the physical and personality traits of the bus driver in SOUTHPARK over the years), was anything but sympathetic.

No, we couldn’t stop, she told me. If I used the bathroom, everyone would want to use the bathroom and she didn’t want to be on the road an extra hour because a bunch of kids had to take a pee.

I swear she went out of her way to hit every pot hole on the freeway after I stumbled painfully back to my seat, wondering how long I could possibly hold it before exploding.

Another hour later, one of the most pain-filled hours I can remember that didn’t involve a migraine, we pulled up in front of Clairemont High (Ridgemont High, for those of you who’ve seen the movie). Everyone got out of the bus except me and my friend, Karen. We were at the very back of the bus and I knew if I stood up, nature was gonna take its course before I made it two steps down the aisle. I was also (pardon the pun) pissed off as hell at the stupid bitch driving the bus. So…I carefully hitched up the skirt of my dress and did my business there on the seat while Karen stood guard. I rearranged my skirt, got to my feet and we got off the bus with a pleasant ‘thanks’ to the driver.

As far as vengeance laced with symbolism, I felt pretty damn good about it.