Not a Pot to Piss in
It comes with great sadness and regret that I write this post. Once again I let myself fall victim to one of life’s worst case scenarios. A scenario played out by many of you out there, even on a daily base. You are so brave to go through it. This post is written in reflection. I am a survivor. I hope to never to be exposed to the trauma and panic, I lived through that day. My name is Ray and I boarded a train with a full bladder. Here is my story. What can I say? I have been blessed with a fully functioning strong willed and at times unstoppable bladder control. Countless friends I have come to know are not so lucky. It is this reason that I tend to skip the customary bathroom check before heading out on a long commute. I should have known better given my friends around me seem to have bladders the size of a peach pit. I was caught unaware. Its a common story, told many times over. You know yourself; I was out for a few Jars with some friends. Time came to make my way home. It is then it all happened. I was stuck in an hour commute home with a full bladder fit to burst. It is then I began to go through the 4 common stages of what I like to call 'Not a Pot to Piss in'. Lets begin.
There you are happily down. Listening to your favourite club banging Choon’s to while away the journey home. This phase is usually accompanied by a calmness. The calm before the storm. This sense of well being is usually brought on by the consumption of alcohol. My life rocks might float through your head. Maybe the phrase along with; ‘ I could totally be a singer, I should try out for x factor… no actually BGT, less competition’. Then it hits you. You feel that slight twinge. Oh I think I will need the bathroom when I get home, you might think foolishly. I don't need it now. You ignore it. The pain isn’t strong yet. This stage is dangerous in many ways. For instance, if a certain someone, oh, I don't know, journey consists or a train and a tube conveniently breaking though Victoria station which have public toilets that are kept hygienic to a very acceptable level. A sane person who early felt the onslaught on the need to urinate might think. Gosh. I go to the bathroom here before I make for the second leg of my route home. You would think this. Not my style. More idiot me.
This stage sets in when that twinge you felt earlier becomes an all out fury filled urge to relieve yourself this instance. As stated previously, I was now heading to the tube and in no station is there anywhere appropriate to relieve yourself. You stand there, the feeling builds to the point where by the earlier inebriation you felt has magically evaporated in seconds as the feeling of dread and pain set in. Feck. I really need to go badly. Oh crap. Why is the next tube 2 minutes away? Headphones previously used to distract are left dangling as the need to relieve yourself supersedes any need of musical stimulation. Every signal failure, lengthily stop at a station and slow progress through the dark tunnels leaves you more panicked. It is at this stage that wild ideas start to formulate in your head. If worst came to worst, could I open the door to the next carriage and pee out it into the tunnel without anyone knowing? Probably not, il just sit and bounce up and down and try to act natural all the while you actually look like a heroine addict trying to kick the habit as you bite your nails. I don't even bite my nails usually, it appears I do when I need to pee badly.
Ok, god, or anyone who is out there. Please let me make it to my home. Please do not allow the pee to overwhelm my logical mind and let myself urinate all over this seat. Please prevent the urge to jump and down screaming, if I don't piss soon I'm going to pass out. Ironically the first thing that will happen if you do pass out, is also the one thing you want. You bargain with yourself. Make promises you intend to keep. I promise to pee when near a bathroom if ever the need comes in the future, I promise not to avoid breaking the seal on a night out ever again in the effort to minimise the amount of time spent in a bathroom. I promise never to be a bad boy again, just do not let me piss myself in public. The same idea of pissing in the carriage door comes to mind, only this time, the public shaming you felt earlier about thinking such a thing is missing and you have a adopted a more ‘ couldn’t give a fuck’ attitude towards it.
What will be will be. I no longer have any control over it. If I happen to wet myself well that is god's will or the devils. I hope I don't know anyone on this train. God I am Sweating. It is then the train comes to a halt at your stop and you are free to leave. You are on route home. Oh a public toilet. Dam its locked, what is the point in them. By now the pain is so intense, from the length of time you held it in that you can barely walk, let alone break into a run to get home all the quicker. You now must hobble down the road all the while the all consuming feeling of pain, shame and panic flood you like adrenaline. It is at this stage that you allow yourself to fully fantasise the feeling of pissing. The feeling will be so great when you get home. You pray for a empty bathroom and above all else a housemate is not currently showering. You literally look like you are on drugs as your half walk, half stumble quickly towards your house. Any thought for your physical appearance are long gone, your hair is clinging to your face. Finally. After a journey home that felt like a war. You scramble your keys in your door and run to your bathroom disregarding any sign of acknowledgment for your housemates you pass on the way. At last. Victory. A toilet.
Excuse me now while I go to the bathroom. This talk as given me the need and I am one for keeping my promises. Well most of them anyway. Save yourself the pain and take my warning. Pee before you leave the pub. For the love of god. Always pee.