Pee Committee

I feel compelled to share a rather interesting experience I had yesterday. So, the man friend was over this weekend and says he'd like to spend Sunday together. "Doesn't a nice drive up into the mountains with a fabulous lunch in Vail sound like a good idea?" "Why yes dear." So, we wake up early (note: I like to lay in bed with a cup of coffee and talk to man friend during this lazy hour) and the man is on a mission. You'd think the Rolling Stones were going to play in my living room, he was so dead set on getting ready. I hop in the shower and contemplate what to wear on our little driving adventure. I'm a little behind on laundry; another note: did man-friend's laundry this week. He says, after I've done 6 loads and have another 6 to go, that I don't have a knack for domesticality. Profanity spills forth on my part and not to mention, I put his laundry ahead of my own. Codependents Anonymous has just gained a new member and I will never to man friend laundry in my lifetime. Needless to say, my choices range from pj's to my Choir Christmas outfit that leads to a little chaffing, so I'm somewhat at a loss. He advises me to wear something comfortable. Good idea. Knack for the obvious that man has. Anyway, I decide that since we'll be in the car mostly, I don't need to dress like an Eskimo. Sexy sweats it is.

We're on our way, destination unknown, but sharing quality time together as we argue over radio stations. I have the seat warmer on and am enjoying a hot butt. Another note: when man friend comes over, I'm stuck with a six inch margin of the bed and the corner of a blanket. I am perpetually cold when he's around. God love him though. So, having heat generated from BMW leather to warm my cheeks is bliss. Traffic begins to slow as I begin to think how badly I have to pee. Those who know me well, know that I have a bladder the size of a pencil eraser. Traffic now comes to a complete stop and we're in the middle of nowhere. Slicing pain through the bladder as the pee-committee is urgently telling me they need to convene and SOON. I am now gripping the sides of the seat, white knuckled and for whatever reason, not wanting to let on to man friend that I'm having a bladder crisis. I casually mention that I need to hit a bathroom. He makes some sarcastic remark about not peeing on his seats (for the love, I'm a 30 year old woman...do you actually think I'd pee in someone's car?). I move beyond casual and now forcefully say we must get off the highway. Hmm, road sign next to the still not moving car indicated the next exit is 5 miles and just below it reads "No Services." Of course. I am now considering just pulling over the shoulder and allowing half of the Denver-metro area on the road with us, to witness a white butt in the air. Reason takes over and I make myself believe we can make it five miles. Can I just say that was the longest 5 miles in the history of mankind? The pee-committee is ready to stage a coup. Alas, we reach the No Services exit. Remarkably, there are half a dozen other cars lined up. Trying to salvage any shred of modesty available, I ask man friend to drive over to the snow bank along the on ramp. He kindly obliges. I bolt out of the car to arrest the crisis. Let me paint the snow bank picture: It's as tall as I am, and it's snowing sideways by this time. And do you remember me saying to myself in the shower that there's no need to dress like an Eskimo? The gift of foresight eludes me still. Anyway, I climb the snow bank, drop sexy sweats and try to maintain balance and not fall into the yellow snow. The pee-committee is pissed (literally) and I lose my balance. Yep, ass up in six feet of snow (missed the yellow stuff by a thread). However, I now have snow in every body crevice below my belly button. As I pull up my pants I realize that my butt and who-who are now frozen together. Seriously. How does one explain to man friend that I'm frozen shut? I open the car door and he's laughing and denies that he witnessed the pee incident. As the BMW butt warmer kicks in, the snow melts and it looks like I've wet my pants. How do Eskimos pee, by the way? Is there some class I missed in Girl Scouts where they teach you how to drop traou and not pee down the side of your leg while enjoying the bountiful beauty of nature? I so did not get that badge.

Having bonded with nature a little more, and having gained the true meaning of road signs that read "No Services," I press on to share my experience, strength and hope for other women with unruly pee-committees.