Monday, February 14, 2011

I peed outside yesterday

That's right, kiddies. A cherry to top off the most romantic of weekends, I had to pee outside yesterday. In the snow. On the side of a mountain road. I was laughing so hard tears were pouring down my face.

Here's how it all started. We had SUCH an awesome weekend. The most awesome and romantic weekend that I've had yet in 2011, actually. To celebrate my birthday and Valentine's day, which fall four days apart, we traveled up to Lake Placid for the weekend. We found this awesome, relatively inexpensive hotel just off the beaten path, run by the CUTEST old man and his wife. When we got there, he handed us two cold beers, and I knew right off the bat we had found the perfect place.

Friday night, we went to a fantastic dinner at this gorgeous little inn just down the road. They sat us right by the fire, and then we got some more delicious Lake Placid beers (DELICIOUS, if you've never tried them) and relaxed in the room. Saturday was the parade and ice castle, and it was SO COOL. I was jumping around like a five-year-old, I was so excited. We had the best time, and the weather was awesome. I have to tell you that I was more relaxed and content this weekend than I have been in a while, I didn't realize how much we needed to just get away for a couple of days. We live together, but quite honestly we don't see each other as much as you'd think. And to spend a couple of days alone together, laughing and watching stupid crap on TV was AWESOME.

Sunday came, and we had to pack up our stuff and get on the road. We left the hotel and drove around LP for a bit, just checking out the scenery and soaking it all in before we left. I had two cups of coffee before we got in the car, and another one when we stopped at a gas station heading out of LP.

I could feel myself having to pee shortly after we got on the road, but I kept my mouth shut for two reasons. One: I have a bladder the size of a pea, and I had had to go every time we went anywhere the entire weekend. And two: on the way out of LP, you are driving through the mountains, and there is hardly ANYWHERE to stop, except for scenic parking spots just off the road. So I held it for as long as I could, the bumps in the road like tiny ninja swords stabbing my belly. Finally, K turned to me and said "I have to pee, do you?"  I don't know what tipped him off, maybe it was the pained expression on my face. Or maybe it was the death grip I had on the door handle. Either way, K could tell I had to go. He drove faster, trying to get me to a bathroom, because since I had kept my mouth shut when I should have opened it, it was now an extreme emergency.

And that's when I had the moment. The pre-puke moment where you look around the room and assess where you will puke if you have to (potted plant...purse... garbage can--jackpot!) I looked around the car, trying to see what we had just in case I needed it. And this was the moment I realized I couldn't wait for a rest stop or a gas station; I needed to go NOW.

The bumps got more intense, and I was laughing so hard that tears were pouring down my face. I mean, what are the chances we'd pass TWO different sets of signs with "ROUGH ROAD" printed on them. It was like I was being punished for something. What, I don't know.

K did some MacGyver moves and skidded into the next relatively secluded scenic overlook spot he could find, (and this is how I know he will be a good dad, by the way) opened two of the Jeep doors, and stood watch for me while I peed next to the car as delicately and ladylike as possible.

When the adventure was over, I managed to pull myself together, stop laughing and wipe the tears from my face, I looked at K and realized that as hilarious as this was, it was just another one of the reasons why he is absolutely perfect for me. And we laughed about our misadventures the entire ride home. Best. Valentine's Day. Ever.

2 comments:

  1. seriously, Staci, I have totally peed on the side of the road in Montana like 1,684,382 times already. sans open car doors. welcome to the club.

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