having to pee was the only thing on my mind at the moment.

i could barely concentrate on what was going on around me.
a lot was going on around me.

when you're driving from the west-coast to the east-coast, a lot can happen around you.

except for bathrooms.

it's hard to think about that and not go crazy. bathrooms.

they're everywhere when you don't need them. when you're out, when you're at home, when you're not roughly two thousand miles from your destination.

it's odd to think how much they can not pop up when on the road. some exits don't have them. some exits aren't really exits. and civilization can be scarce in some parts of the united states.

i've never tasted urine, but i'm sure that dry sour taste i felt crawling up in my throat was in fact urine...backfiring from my urinary tract.

i'm not sure about a lot in life, but at that instance, i was sure.

pulling off onto that one road, i thought bathrooms were disposable. they were, but only after 2.2 miles.

2.2 miles is not really far.
if you travel at a constant rate of 60mph you'll make your destination in roughly two minutes.

60 mph is an average speed when driving cross country. you run into a lot of construction patches and rural areas.

when your innards ache with pain from being full of piss, 2.2 miles is too far for anything.

convenient store would an overstatement.

it was the first one found. sketchy or not, that's where we were going to pee.
a urination station, if you will, and you do.

my friend brianne made it in first. stealthy. the color of night, or dusk, she slithered into the rest room past an elderly man who was mopping the floors in his establishment.

i've never hated her until that very moment, for bypassing me to take a piss first.

the man who was mopping up a mess that was non-existent at the time grunted in my general direction.

"can i help you?" he asked, not really wanting to help me.

"no, thank you, sir. i'm just waiting for her to get out." i say as i point towards the unisex bathroom door.

"well, are you going to buy anything?" he spits out.

he should mop that spot he just spit at. i had all intentions on purchasing a red bull. it gave me wings for the prior 13 hours of reaching that gas station, but i don't like people to be forceful with me.

"why? can i not use the rest room?" i'm testing my limits, i really want to see if he was serious or not.

"not if you don't buy anything."

at this point, buying something from him would hurt my pride more than aching pain i was harboring in my testicles from holding my pee.

"okay?" i say to him as if i'm not really understanding his intentions.

by this point, he's literally whining. a seven year old comes to mind.

"okay. fine. do whatever you think is right." he whines.

"i think the right thing to do is to pee." i tell him.

he then starts to ramble on about how the cops where in his store ten minutes ago, and how everyone from the concert in "town" would come and mess his floors up. he is pitching a genuine fit.

"whatever. if you don't buy anything, then don't use the restroom." he flip-flops his decisions hastily.

i have the right mind to piss on his floor. right where he was mopping. but we were in the part of "town" that didn't seem to welcome people of another color, and seeing how i'm noticeably mistaken for hispanic, and brianne is a few shades more than white, he would probably take a sawed off shot-gun to our heads, and then lynch abby for running around with our kind.

i rarely curse at people who are ignorant in situations like this. mainly for two reasons.

1. i may be being 'punked'
2. i may be on mtv's boiling points.

i cursed.
for two reasons.

1. i am not famous, yet.
2. mtv would not have found that exit or that gas station with all the gps tracking devices in the world.

something eloquent rolled off my tongue.
something along the lines of "you're really throwing a fit over this? fuck off".

it was either that, or piss everywhere.

needless to say, i took my urination to another station.

the urge to piss sort of died in the heat of the moment. almost like a buzz kill when you're drunk and something pseudo serious happens.

maybe there is a part of the brain that relieves urges in intense moments of life.



memories have been slipping me lately. more than likely because the loads i'm taking on. fine points in life, much like this one, will (and should) be recorded regularly.

until next time
-nick