To Pee or Not to Pee Is Not the Question*

*True story of Al Zimbler’s life as it appears in his eighth short story humor book MORE BEDTIME STORIES FOR NIGHTTIME LOVERS.

What I did was wrong. I had choices but I chose the wrong one that evening. It was not doomsday but doomsnight.

On the evening of August 13, 2008, I was returning from my men’s club annual dinner in Chicago. Neither I nor my wife drink so this is not about drunk driving. The dinner that evening was prime rib and, unfortunately, it had garlic on it. Garlic and my stomach do not usually agree.

I usually drink lots of water and that evening was no exception, plus I drank about two cups of coffee. I had gone to the restroom a little before we left as had my wife.

Other than construction traffic on Route 294 that called for watchful driving, it did not take long before we came to the spur leading from Route 294 to the Edens. Then traffic came to a complete halt. A dead halt. Nothing was moving. The reason, as we found out later, was that the entry lane from the spur leading to the Edens was closed off due to repair work being done on the Edens.

Meanwhile we inched forward one car at a time every three or four minutes. My stomach started to act up from the garlic. I felt like throwing up, but where? I couldn’t stop the car for there was no shoulder to pull over to. At the same time my wife said she had to go to the bathroom. I told her to hold it as there was nothing I could do about it.

“I have to go, and I really mean it!” she repeated as we slowly advanced. “Hold it!” I kept telling her. Her repeated comments made me feel as if I also needed a potty stop.

Finally after two hours on that spur I managed to get onto the Edens. Still feeling like I was going to heave and my wife holding on for dear life, I told her it was only another mile until I could get off the Edens. But again traffic on the Edens was crawling.

I noticed there was an opening on the right lane for me to move over to and I did. But it wasn’t the right lane, it was the shoulder. I tried getting back into my former lane but the other cars would not let me in. Seeing the turnoff a quarter mile ahead, I decided to finish the trip by riding to freedom on the shoulder.

It was then when the flashing lights of the state police car were reflected in my rearview window.

I had to stop, but at the same time I thought, “Oh my gosh, what if I heave on his uniform? And what if my wife wets the seat? Is that called public urination?” Then there would be the cost of having her expensive dinner dress cleaned as well as the additional cost of detailing the car because of my heaving and her accidental urination.

I didn’t have too much time to think about that as I lowered my window and passed my driver’s license to the state trooper. Trying to explain why I drove on the shoulder did not move the state trooper to tears.

While my wife and I held on for dear life, I asked and got permission to drive the rest of the way on the shoulder in order to get off the Edens.

We made it home with just seconds to spare.