mercredi, le 27 juillet 2005

VENEZIA, ROMA
17:20

Saw something interesting today. Monaca and I came out of our hotel (which is in an alley) to see a lady and man standing there. Before we really knew what was going on, the lady squatted down. We were still a little confused, until the lady started peeing. THE LADY WAS SQUATTING TO PEE IN THE ALLEYWAY. How gross is that? We didn't really know what to do--should we go back inside? walk the other way? just keep walking toward them, acting like nothing weird was going on? We wordlessly decided on the last option, since that was the direction we needed to go. The guy with the lady was so embarrassed. I don't blame him. But maybe she just really had to go. I now know what that's like.

This afternoon, Monaca and I picked up our bags from Hotel Mignon (they let us leave them there all day!) and headed for the vaporetto stop at the Ponte Rialto. When we got to the bus depot at Piazza le Roma, we had about an hour and a half to wait till our bus came. We got some water (half a liter for Monaca, a liter and a half for me), which we quickly finished; then we stretched out on the grass in the shade. When it was time to board the bus, I started to feel the as-yet feeble complaint of a filling bladder. (A liter and a half of water--DUH.) As the bus ride approached the half-hour mark, my need was getting dire. I went searching for a restroom and found it on the first floor of the bus, but it was out of service! I was starting to be in pain. I seriously considered pleading with the driver to stop so I could find somewhere to pee. I eventually told Monaca to stop talking to me, because I needed to concentrate on not wetting myself. The pain intensified, and I started wondering if I would make it. No sitting position alleviated my pain. Monaca jokingly offered me an empty cracker jar, but it started seeming like a feasible option. The way I saw it, there were three possibilities:

1) I would wet my pants,
2) I would pee in the jar, or
3) my bladder would explode.
You know it's bad when your best option involves humiliating yourself in a very public manner.

We pulled into the airport just in time. I was the first person off that bus (I may have exited before it came to a complete stop), and I walked, hunched over, into the terminal, searching for a sign directing me to the toilets. I truly believe I got there just in time. If our bus ride had been five minutes longer, I would have used the jar.