It's My Potty, I'll Cry if I Want To

Okay, since Pastor Rick obviously has no other form of entertainmnet than to read my blog,  I suppose I should write another one.  The thing is, I can think of nothing extremely profound or interesting to blog about so this is what you get.  It's an essay I wrote senior year and I apologize in advance.  You asked for it!!! :)

It's My Potty and I'll Cry if I Want To

As I starred onto the horizon of the open road, I wondered what the day had in store for me.  Surrounded by sixty of my closest marching band friends, I was thinking of my destination: San Antonio, Texas.  I was looking forward to the Alamo and six flags, but also the warm weather that didn't exist in my hometown that month.  Little did I know that my day was doomed to begin with a slightly tragic rest stop situation.  After driving for a while, we planned to stop at a truck stop.  My mission was simple; to use the rest room and buy a soda.  It was important for me to " empty and refuel" myself in order to be fully prepared to face my long day of fun.  "Let's make this quick" I thought to myself.  I was far too anxious to dilly-dally.

When the bus came to a complete stop, I happily hopped up and jumped to the front.  The first thing I notices when my foot hit the pavement was the weather.  Even though we were in Southern Texas in the middle of the spring, for some reason the Nashville weather has followed us there.  It was forty degrees accompanied with a harsh wind.  I was totally shocked. !  I had packed for much warmer weather and I had foolishly packed no jacket and all I could do was hope that it warmed up.  Mildly disappointed, I sucked it up and began to walk toward the bathrooms.

The walk was a seemingly lengthy one and by the time I reached my designation, everyone else had run ahead of me to secure themselves a spot in line.  Once I got inside the bathroom, I saw that there were only three stalls to be shared by about thirty girls, most of which were ahead of me.  "Great, this is going to take much longer than I thought," I said to myself, but little did I know this would be the least of my worries.  As I walked further into the building I found out that half of it was missing a major architectural element; a roof.  The tops of the three stalls were completely open allowing the cold and biting wind to blow and bite where ever it so pleased.  This was indeed unsettling.  "I'm already freezing fully clothed! I'm in no way prepared to face the wind pantless!"  I said to the confused chaperon standing next to me.  As I got closer to stalls, I discovered yet another disturbing fact.  The toilets were made out of metal.

Do I REALLY have to go?  What if someone get struck by lightning while they were sitting there?  Who manufactures metal toilets HONESTLY?!?!?!?  These questions swarmed my head while I tried to keep my mind off the latest gust of wind.  I really did have to go, but I didn't know what to do until it hit me.  All I had to do was hover.

It was then my turn to walk in.  Suddenly I noticed that my only hope for some small slice of comfort was shattered.  The toilets were too high for me to hover making it impossible for me to hover.  Extremely peeved, I did all I could do--I bit my lip and sat.  After the initial shock subsided, I made a conscious decision not to touch anything so I wouldn't have to wash my hand in the water I was sure would be cold.  I had a bottle of Germ-ex that I kept on the bus and all i had to do was make it there.  I exited the stall using only my feet (quite acrobatically) to flush and open the door.  I was feeling highly annoyed and somewhat numb.

As I left, I examined the sinks.  I noticed an absence of paper towels and, just as I thought, there was no warm water settings. My fingers were already cold enough, so I attempted to walk out nonchalantly.  "This place is kind of crowded.  No one will notice if I don't wash my hands just this once,"  or so I thought.

I was halfway in the clear when I heard my little friend Heather scream " Hey aren't you gonna wash your hands?" in which case the whole entire line turned to look at me and I had no choice but to comply to her overly observant wishes.

I ran my hands under the predictably freezing water and said half-way jokingly, "Heather, if those blow dryers don't work, I'm going to kill you."  These famous last words proved to be prophetic, for both the dryers that were provided, weren't working.  I decided then that Heather must die.

I finally escaped before I could do any major damage to Heather's tiny body, and went out for my final attempt to cheer myself up...I had to find a soda.  AS luck would have it, none of the dozen or so machines were on.  Holding back the urge to scream loudly or make out a hit list with only Heather's name on it, I simply gave up and started my long walk back to the bus.  Sadly, I returned cold, wet, frostbitten, sodaless and ultimately defeated.