‘Please let me pee!’
My words elicited no response. My full bladder was squealing like a pig about to be slaughtered.
Five minutes are a lot when you’re controlling the urge to urinate. I should’ve just emptied myself on the train. But the lateral motion was a turn off. It’s tough for me to go when there’s a perpetual sway.
So, I waited like a fool. And now feared to be standing in a yellow pool if the women at the door didn’t let me through. They just looked at me and shrugged their shoulders.
I wish I could scream, but it would only pull the plug that abated the flow of discomfort swishing inside me. I didn’t request a conversation. Just needed to use the damn bathroom. And they were standing right outside it.
What else did they think I wanted?
‘I have to go wee-wee. Sssssssss.’
I returned to my childhood days when my mother would run after me. She’d grab me and plonk me on the pot. Her irritable words coaxing a wet response.
Sunny! Sssssssss…hurry up.
But the sound from my mouth died like the hope inside me, and the women continued to stare like I was a talking parrot. Maybe if I was green and had feathers, I’d be relieved of this misery.
Birds don’t pee, do they?
It was time to hold my crotch and bob up and down, flexing my knees like a tribal dancer. A desperate, last attempt to save myself from dripping embarrassment.
Both women pulled back their shoulders and pinched their noses like they could smell the impending disaster. Finally, some hope and understanding.
One pointed down the platform.
I looked at the door in front me. Where the hell had I been standing?
One laughed and made tiny hand and mouth gestures. The door opened to the staff canteen.
I hobbled away. A warm burst ran down my legs. Turned out I was the pissing idiot.
Rocky XOXO the Cobra must live up to his social media image. But his reality is little more than a swearing idiot.