Wednesday, September 29, 2004

Better late than never.

I was going to finish telling you about the Cubs game I attended two weeks ago. However, I'll just skip all of it and tell you about the wee (no pun intended... as you will read later) bus adventure afterwards.

As you'll remember, I was with Harry; he was on crutches and I was on a tummy full of Budweiser. We escaped the Friendly Confines relatively unscathed and inched our way to Waveland at the plodding pace of a snail. I wanted to run around and get the blood moving in my legs, but alas, I couldn't relinquish Harry to the sea of exuberant fans who might very likely knock him off his pins. Therefore, plod, plod, plod went the Cooter, scuff, scuff, scuff went the sticks... ok, new paragraph before I break into a song about heartstrings and a trolley...

Without going into the ordeal that involved protecting Harry AND trying to find the damn bus on Waveland (which was a sea of buses that ALL looked alike to me), I'll just say it took us 45 minutes to board. Everyone else was already on. Eeps... so the fact that we're stuck in traffic is now MY fault. Then it hit me: I really really REALLY had to pee. Yes, I'd rather go in the dark, dank cells that Wrigley coughs up than to sit my tender white ass down in a BUS. Alas, it appeared there was really no choice in the matter.

I took a deep breath and headed to the back of the non-moving, stuck-in-traffic-because-we-couldn't-leave-right-away-because-Harry-and-I-were-late-getting-on bus. It felt like everyone was boring hot holes of hatred into my beer-laden crog. All except for Courtney (remember him from my last post?) who was sitting in the very back directly opposite the restroom door.

Courtney: "You don't have to number two, do you, Angie?" (said loudly... of course)

Cooter: "No, Courtney. But I DO have to piss like a racehorse." (muttered under my breath between clenched teeth -- yes, I had to pee that bad...)

Courtney: "Ok, Angie. Win the race!"

Cooter: **whu?** (quick eyebrow raise)

Into the little stainless steel coffin I go... have I ever mentioned that I'm really frikkin' claustrophobic? Or the fact that I *never* use the "restrooms" on a plane (or, in this case, bus)? There's a logic behind it all somewhere. Well, this was a particularly painful experience for me, because not only am I 'trapped' in this tiny metal room, but it took a long time to relieve myself of all the beer. Plus, it seemed like one of those bad dreams where you're naked in public. I just KNEW everyone on the bus could hear me urinating. It just couldn't get any worse. Right?

Toward the end of my marathon Number One, the bus started to move. We'd been inching along in the traffic, much like Harry on the sidewalk. But then it was really, truly moving. And stopping abruptly. Then moving. Stopping. I was actually in the throes of pissing hell. And then I heard something...

Courtney: "ANGIE!!! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" (oh yeah... he was shouting...)

Cooter: "I'm fine, Courtney... I'll be out in a moment." (whispering loudly)

The bus stops abruptly again.


Cooter: **by this time, I'm bracing myself against the sink and the wall trying to button my shorts, all the while absolutely laughing my ass off**


With that, I wrest the door open (yes, AFTER I washed my piddy paws) to a very frantic, red-faced Courtney... who truly thought I might have fallen into the abyss of indigo terlet bus water. The look of relief that flooded his face when I came out was absolutely priceless. And then it happened.

Everyone on the bus applauded.

I guess it must have been my ability to maneuver the hazards of a Tri-State Tour bus. Red-faced, I proudly made my way back to my seat, whereupon I received a high five from the 'sign language' guy. And, throughout the four hour trip back to Iowa City, Courtney came up to check on me about every 15-20 minutes. I think he still had that picture in his head of me floundering in bus gak.


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