Peeing On My Feet Part 2

"Hmmm, I wonder if that was a wise idea?"

I ask myself that question after finishing off a litre of water just as I pass the last town I will see for an hour. Before me the highway snakes like a ribbon between as-far-as-the-eye-can-see forest. No one lives along this stretch of highway - every so often there is a lease road branching off - roads used by oilfield workers and that is as close to civilization as I will get for the next 60 minutes.

I'm half an hour past chugalugging the water when I realize that I won't make it to the next town for a bathroom break. I remember there being a really nice meadow like area along this stretch of highway if I can only remember which side road it's on. I've felt every little bump of the highway for miles already so I turn off the highway and pull down the road far enough so no one can see me. I look up and before me is no meadow. Instead there is an open gate with a large oil company sign attached that says no one is allowed past this point without authorization. No problem. I stop the car just shy of the gate and take a look at the ditch. I could almost hide in the tall grass to do my business but it's still early in the morning and the grass is wet. Somehow it escapes me that dew on my feet would feel so much better than the alternatives. I decide to just walk to the front of my car, well hidden from the highway, and pee right there. Surely no one will come from the other direction - from beyond the no tresspassing gateway. In my haste I don't look where I decide to pee. Only after it's too late do I realize I planted one foot on the top of the road and one foot on the side of it. I cringe as I watch a trickle becoming a small river heading straight for my foot. There's only so far a girl can stretch without either doing a face plant forwards or landing on her tush. Sigh. Peeing on my feet again it is. I can hear the sounds of vehicles rushing past, too far out of sight for either of us to see one another, and also so loud I can't hear whether I'm done peeing or not. Bad timing means I end up peeing on my hand, too. I have just stood up when I hear a vehicle coming from beyond the gate. Lickety split I pull up my pants, note I've peed on my clothes, too, grab my last remaining wet wipe and clean off my hands and feet. I've just jumped into my car before he rounds the bend. I'm pretending to enjoy the scenery, when he pulls up and rolls down his window.

"You doing alright there?"

I blush as I tell him I am just fine thank you. He nods and goes on his merry way. He's had to drive past the kleenex laden puddle in front of my car to greet me. I'm thankful for my sun glasses hiding my mortified eyes. Seconds earlier and I would have been literally caught with my pants down. Peeing on my feet doesn't seem so bad considering what just about happened. After he's gone I manouver my car around on the narow stretch of road and head towards home. Paranioa sets in within a few miles and I just about convince myself that there were cameras on the gate connected to some monitor beyond him back in no man's land. That the guys back at the gas plant convinced him to come check on me to see if I was okay.

I sail past the next town and decide not to stop. It's another hour to the next town. Damn. Not a wise choice. But I am not stopping by the side of the road one more time on this trip. No siree. I daydream about driving all the way home without stopping at all. About hugging dearest one after nearly two weeks apart, and saying " Get out of my way I have to pee." Dearest one is known for hugging me when I am uptight and not letting go until I calm down. I envision myself warning him I have perfected the art of peeing on my feet while away and if he doesn't let me go I will pee right then and there. And furthermore, with any luck the one time I try to pee on my feet, I most surely will pee on his.

Bet he will let me go in record time. Don't you?

I am so glad I didn't have to find out.