EPTI had just gotten back from a two week vacation to China yesterday. I suffered some pretty severe diarrhea midway throught the trip, and had still not yet fully recovered. My anus was burning from inflammation, and I felt my intestinal contents might unexpectedly discharge at any moment. The vibration of the car seat under my ass was not helping. I was trapped in a traffic jam this evening, toiling on the unmoving section of highway I had been stuck in before. My bladder was also not in the greatest shape; I needed to urinate badly, and my diarrheal inflamed organs seemed to be squeezing my bladder tighter. I turned on the radio to find out that Toronto was hosting a UFC event tonight, at the Skydome (Rogers Centre) which was right beside my destination. Shit. There was no way I could make my concert on time.
I started playing the cello last summer, and took a couple of lessons from a school to get started. My cello teacher was so enthusiastic at my progress over four weeks that he invited me to play with his church orchestra, giving me free lessons, equipment, sheet music, and complimentary tickets to his own orchestra performances. On this night I was headed into downtown Toronto to attend such a concert, which started at 8pm, the same time as the UFC event.
I had no idea there was a UFC event going on tonight. Last time I checked, Ontario was still lobbying for the right to host such events. I was surprised how quickly the venue was approved by our authorities. I am no fan of MMA, and in fact somewhat of an opponent of this activity. I was very disappointed that this spectacle would be interfering with my evening plans.
But tonight the traffic jam was not directly caused by this big ticket event. Apparently there was a major accident somewhere on the highway, with an entire segment closed off and all traffic being diverted onto a smaller road. I saw a sign for an earlier exit and considered taking it. However, the window of opportunity was too brief and passed by. Furthermore, I has infamously poor at road directions and was certain I would get lost if I changed my route too drastically.
So I sat behind the steering wheel, waiting angrily, becoming more anxious with each passing minute. My urge to pee was growing ever worse. 7:30 passed. 7:40. 7:50. I was nearing the downtown core, but the traffic was unrelenting. 8:00. Crap, now I was going to miss some of the concert. Now I really could not hold in my pee any longer. Around the car was nothing put road and pavement. There was nowhere to pull over, and traffic was moving enough that I could not get out of the car to relieve myself on the road. Luckily, I thought, there was an empty glass apple juice bottle in the bottle holder in my car. I had never tried it before, but I supposed this was the time to take drastic measures.
I unzipped my pants and inserted my tip into the mouth of the bottle. I stood up slightly to get a better angle of incidence. It was still angled above the horizontal plane, but the bottle was more or less upright and I hoped I wouldn’t spill too much. I relaxed my muscles and started relieving. The initial output was very slow, contrary to a much needed long held piss. After a couple of squirts the flow was picking up, and I slowly drove the car forward to close up the gap in front. Ahh, now here came the high volume outpour I was looking for. I looked down to check for spills. Oh shit. The bottle was filling up. I tried as best I could to close my valves, but there was still much urine to divest. Once the bottle was full, I masterfully yanked it away from my crotch, figuring it would be less messy to keep the bottle more or less dry on the outside. I was still peeing involuntarily, but not at full force. I capped the bottle, put it aside, and drove forward to close the gap. I looked down to survey the damage. My pee had slowed almost to a stop, and the crotch of my pants was very visibly wet. I tucked it back into my pants, and was glad at least that it didn’t feel too wet on my legs or butt. I spotted the next exit and quickly drove out.
Out on the street I located my target roads without much problem and turned into the place with cheap parking. The sign put out front read, “SPECIAL EVENT. PARKING $30”. Shit. I was expecting to pay $5 only. I looked at the clock, which already read 8:30. God damn it, stupid UFC. There was no way I was paying $30 to watch only half my concert. I pulled over beside the parking lot entrance to plot my next move.
I drove around the nearby area for a while, searching for alternate parking sites. They were pretty much all full. I finally settled to stop on the road in front of a hotel/restaurant. There were two parking lots right beside me but were both full. I looked at the signs, which did not explicitly indicate I could not park here. I parked in front of some kind of utility bus, and sat and considered my options.
I surmised the situation for five minutes. Strangely, there were no other cars parked on this side of the road. 8:55. I had considered leaving to go home and call it a night, but I was asked to drive two people back home after the concert, so I needed to stay around. There was no parking meter. I decided to take my chances, got out of the car, took out my bottle of piss, locked up, and started walking to the hall. The crotch of my pants was quite wet, but there was nothing I could do, so I walked as naturally as I could without drawing any attention to the problem area. Luckily, it was not wet enough to make walking too uncomfortable.
I made my way to the theatre and dropped off the bottle into a trash can outside. I hurried my way to the washroom. The stain was visible, but not a huge distraction and would probably go unnoticed as long as people did not specifically look at my crotch. I dried up my pants as much as I could with some toilet paper, then headed toward the theatre.
I got to the waiting area and it was intermission time. Just as planned. This would make my entrance much easier, rather than standing outside looking like a suspicious crazy idiot or walking in in the middle of performance. I noticed a group of people I recognized as among my teacher’s guests, people I would be driving home at the end of the concert. I avoided them for the time being, as I intended to give my pants some time to dry during the remainder of the concert before I confronted anyone. Intermission finally ended and people filed back into the theatre. I entered the hall without even showing the door people my ticket. Throughout the entire time I was inside, I was constantly worrying whether my car would be towed or ticketed.
The first piece played was quite enjoyable, some kind of “divertango” or whatever composed by a guest present at the show. The second piece was Beethoven’s 6th “pastoral” symphony. Shortly after it started I could not stay awake. It was a combination of jet lag, driving fatigue, and placatory music. I kept nodding on and off, and I struggled greatly to keep alert. I was unable to appreciate the music with any kind of attention.
Finally, at around 10:20, the concert was finished. I shuffled back to the waiting area outside to await my driving assignment. I found the group I knew from before and joined them. Shortly after my teacher came out. I told him I parked randomly on the street, and he offered to walk the group over to my car to make sure it was still there before driving off. I was asked to drive two girls in grade 12, who actually went the same high school I did. I happily obliged and we stepped onto the street.
As we neared the place I parked my heart fell. I thought my car was gone, but after several steps closer I was tremendously relieved to see that its view had simply been obstructed by the big bus that I parked in front of. I bid farewell to the rest of the group and helped the two girls into the car. As I climbed in myself, I saw three policemen in front of me ticketing cars around the bend, and one car being hooked up for towing. I didn’t know whether my car would have warranted the same fate, but I sure as hell didn’t want to stick around to find out as a hurriedly pulled away.
Unsure whether the highway was still jammed, but expecting the UFC event to end at a similar time, I decided to take a detour and enter the highway from another point. As I often did, I improvised my way through the roads relying only on a vague sense of direction and promptly got lost. Not truly lost, however; I usually managed to maintain a basic sense of orientation but was not confident in my navigation. Every time I got behind the wheel the trip was sure to be adventurous. After 10 minutes or so, I broke out my trusty road map and asked the girl sitting up front to confirm my directions. After touring around briefly, sometimes through dark empty roads, I found my way to the highway exit but missed it the first time around. I had to circle around the block for another go before we finally made it out of the downtown area. The ordeal took around 20 minutes, which given my standards, was actually quite acceptable. I couldn’t tell whether there was any traffic jam on my primary route, and whether I had just wasted time looping around the city streets. Oh well.
I drove the two girls home, making casual conversation along the way. I dropped them off, and looked for my own way home. I got to the intersection and decided I should turn right. After 5 minutes, I realized I was going the wrong way and had to turn around.
I finally got home at 12:15. What a night – a mix of irritation, anger, misfortune, worry, impatience, suspense, panic, relief, fatigue, luck, disorientation and helplessness. A series of personal decisions that challenged my psyche. Things didn’t really go very smoothly, but I knew they could also have been a lot worse. Ah well... I guess you win some and you lose some, and tonight’s prescription was a generous dose of both. Please no more of this next time, I ask the traffic gods.
