Monday, March 29, 2004
Hold It
So things are changing now. That's right -- we don't have a bathroom. The guys are here now, ripping it apart. We tore the cheap, plastic tiles off ourselves, but the guys are doing the real work. Putting up new drywall, tearing out the sink and toilet, ceramic tiling the tub. But today is Monday, day one, and today they're just tearing everything apart.
I don't know how many days there will be. Jessica estimates nine. All I know is today is day one, and I have no toilet. I'm sure that at this time tomorrow, I'll fondly remember having a toilet, using it, enjoying its cool, exhaustive faculty. Now I'm just carefully watching how much coffee I drink.
The last time I had to hold it a long time was the spring semester of my freshman year during high school, 1992. The fam took a vacation to Hawaii, and the flight left in the morning. So I got up, dutiful runner that I was, at 4:15 am, so I could get a run in. I think I relieved myself at 4:30 that morning. We went to the airport, took a flight to LA, layed over there for a while, then took a flight to Hawaii. At that point -- the flight to Hawaii -- I had to go. But I didn't want to go on the plane, so I held it. Then we landed, and prepared to get on a puddle-hopper to Maui. No bathroom in the airport. So I held it. I didn't *go* on the puddle-hopper out of spite. When it landed, I knew: "Christ, I've got to go now." Holding it was no longer a passive act. It was active, and it required concentration. The burn was so bad that I wasn't sure if I should hold it up or down.
It wasn't looking good for the kid.
So there we were, in the Maui airport, waiting for our luggage -- no bathroom. There we were, waiting for a taxi -- no bathroom. At this point, everyone knew of my dire need. The ride from the taxi to the hotel was 40 minutes long. It was coming to 8:30 pm, Hawaii time -- a full 20 hours since my pre-run excursion to the bathroom. The cab pulled up to the hotel, we got out, we got our luggage, we walked in, we waited to check in. We waited. I was sweating urine. My midsection hurt so badly, I was crying urine. My brother made noises to resemble Niagara Falls. My mother told me, "It's not good for your body, to hold it so long." We received the room keys. We finally found our room.
And my sister ran to the bathroom and shut the door.
I don't know how many days there will be. Jessica estimates nine. All I know is today is day one, and I have no toilet. I'm sure that at this time tomorrow, I'll fondly remember having a toilet, using it, enjoying its cool, exhaustive faculty. Now I'm just carefully watching how much coffee I drink.
The last time I had to hold it a long time was the spring semester of my freshman year during high school, 1992. The fam took a vacation to Hawaii, and the flight left in the morning. So I got up, dutiful runner that I was, at 4:15 am, so I could get a run in. I think I relieved myself at 4:30 that morning. We went to the airport, took a flight to LA, layed over there for a while, then took a flight to Hawaii. At that point -- the flight to Hawaii -- I had to go. But I didn't want to go on the plane, so I held it. Then we landed, and prepared to get on a puddle-hopper to Maui. No bathroom in the airport. So I held it. I didn't *go* on the puddle-hopper out of spite. When it landed, I knew: "Christ, I've got to go now." Holding it was no longer a passive act. It was active, and it required concentration. The burn was so bad that I wasn't sure if I should hold it up or down.
It wasn't looking good for the kid.
So there we were, in the Maui airport, waiting for our luggage -- no bathroom. There we were, waiting for a taxi -- no bathroom. At this point, everyone knew of my dire need. The ride from the taxi to the hotel was 40 minutes long. It was coming to 8:30 pm, Hawaii time -- a full 20 hours since my pre-run excursion to the bathroom. The cab pulled up to the hotel, we got out, we got our luggage, we walked in, we waited to check in. We waited. I was sweating urine. My midsection hurt so badly, I was crying urine. My brother made noises to resemble Niagara Falls. My mother told me, "It's not good for your body, to hold it so long." We received the room keys. We finally found our room.
And my sister ran to the bathroom and shut the door.
