(‘93 MR2, the car)

Don’t you just love hanging with your friends.  Good food, good conversation and well, good wine.

The only difference here,  you have a best-friend, but add her sister, her sister’s husband, a brother, a dad, a grandmother.  All surrounding a dinner table full of turkey, stuffing and Thanksgiving cheer.

My friend’s family are fun people, and we have some dumb conversations, but this took the cake (or in this case,  pumpkin pie) and with every gathering they tease me and laugh at how ridiculous this story was.  Now, I going to share it with you!  Aren’t you lucky.

The conversation started about traffic woes in metro DC.  So, a buzzed Jessie took this opportunity to express in detail her I-66 rush hour fiasco one Friday afternoon.

I was sitting in the center lane at a dead stop on I-66 about the Rt 123 exit and realized the urgency I had to take a piss.   So I pondered what to do.

I looked over at my half filled liter sized Dasani water bottle laying on the passenger seat.  I gulped down the remainder of the water to empty the bottle (dumb move #1)  I reached behind my seat and grabbed a towel stashed for ”pop-off moonroof rain emergencies”.  Inch up the MR2, park, foot off gas.  Hopped my butt up to lay the towel flat on the seat.  If I dribble, I don’t want it soaking into the cloth seats.

“nice pee smell in your shiny red car, Jessie”… the horror 

Now, I need to be in the slowest lane so I can do my business without having to inch MR2 up as frequently.  So I merged into the far right hand lane. (dumb move #2)

SUVs and cars have a clear view of my sport’s car cabin.   So I wiggle down in driver seat (wiggling in my dining room chair toward the floor) Looking around to see if cars can see what I am doing.  I pull my sun dress up (added the motion at the dinner table) and my thong to the side (unfortunately, I simulated that movement too, but not my actual thong, my god, this is a family affair you pervs).  Then I try to negotiate this narrow water bottle neck right by my pee hole. (yes, I simulated that too next to “Dad” and “Grandma”.  The blessing here is grandma does not comprehend English so she just loved how animated I was over this story.)

Everyone is quietly listening to me.  Not laughing, just mouths wide open.  (Tabatha is never going to invite me to another family function)  I’m too buzzed and into my story to really give a rat’s ass.

I’m set.  Now pee. ”Oh my god did someone see me?  Damn, I lost my concentration”

Ummmmmm (meditating) peeeeeeepeeeee, ummmmmmm pa pa pa peeeeeeeeeee, water flowing, water falls, water running peeeeeeee

But I couldn’t.  I had this block.  Damn I have to inch my car up.  Wiggle back up, dress down (wiggling in chair, now I really have the  ”oh no, she is not telling us this story” look on Tabatha’s face).  Move car, scoot back down, dress up, move thong, adjust private parts, water bottle in place, now pee! 

My MR2 is a toy car, only driven on sunny days, garaged kept, don’t eat in it.  So you see my mental block here?  I have to now convince myself that

It’s OK to pee in your car, everybody does it.  It really is fine, just do it.  No one will see you, just pee, It will feel better.  You know you are about to burst so.  Think of the relief, so ~ JUST FUCKIN PEE ~ in your immaculately kept car in the middle of I-66 rush hour traffic with vehicles going by you.  Even though that guy in the Escalade can see you and he is telling his buddy on his cellphone about the chick in the red sports car pissing in her car on the highway. OH! GREAT! now they are honking at you cause YOU are 3 car lengths behind the car in front of you, and that asshole just cut you off ! Damn it!

Nope, can’t do it.

So, now I have an extra half liter of water in my bladder, slowed down my journey home by driving in the blue-haired lane.  And yes, everyone they need to fix the traffic problems in metro DC so motorists don’t have to think about pissing in their cars.