But it was on the small side. Why oh why couldn’t they have gotten the extra large Coolatta instead?! And don’t think that I didn’t notice the door next to the coffee cup. What was that stain?
+ + +
As all of this was running through my mind, the train moved again. Another station, then another delay. Things were getting painful, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it to all of the people, my fellow New Yorkers, who would eventually board this train.
So, I did whatever I could to distract myself. I cranked the dulcet harmonies of Eisley in my headphones. I closed my eyes and imagined happier places, like our cozy apartment with a freshly cleaned bathroom smelling of bleach, or a shaded forest with plenty of obstructed sight lines. I prayed. I was determined to not pee on the subway. And the train started again.
When we finally got to the stop closest to the Starbucks, I stayed on the train. I just didn’t want to move. Thankfully, we went through the last stops unimpeded. I got off at my stop and stumbled home as fast as I could while maintaining bladder integrity. Running would’ve been too much jostling, so I walked with my feet slightly apart more than usual, as if traversing one of those tire courses that football players high-step through.
The sidewalk seemed to stretch away from me, prolonging the walk. As I’m sure some heroic figure has said at some point in history: I didn’t come all this way just to wet my pants in front of my neighbors! By the grace of God, I made it home.
I hope you’ll learn from my harrowing experience. Listen to your body, even its most subtle hints. Make it a habit to try to go before every outing. And maybe carry an extra large Coolatta cup around with you, just in case.