This is not
a story of rainbows or wanderlust of the original solo female
traveler Dorothy and her little dog Toto finding courage in the heart
of the lion. Nor is it about having to be smarter then the scarecrow
to navigate roads in foreign lands. But rather a down home tale of
what happens when you have been cycling for hours with a bladder
fuller then the size of Kansas.
As the
bicycle seat bounces into my bladder, I need to pee and begin to
follow the yellow brick road. It is the tropics of southern Thailand
and I have consumed enough water to melt the wicked witch of the
west.
I pass a
petrol station, there is not a proper toilet, I carry on. I pedal by
someone’s pet dog who is squatting over a pot hole, boy does that
look tempting, I carry on. As the minutes persist and the urge
strengthens with the force of a Oz like hurricane I am faced with the
inevitable realization that good hiding spot or not if I don’t pee
soon I will certainly pee my pants. Everything I pedal by has turned
into a P. There are petrol stations, pet dogs, papayas for sale,
people everywhere and no privacy in site.
I pull
Pandemic The Magic Bicycle into a new construction area about 20 feet
from the road. I run for the trees, drop my be the adventure panties
and with the comforts of there is no place like home, I pee under the
trees. I glance down taking care to not splash my magic slippers and
I am startled by the site of red ants swimming up the yellow brick
road and into my be the adventure panties.
One hot air balloon short
of a better exit plan I run for the magic bicycle as I pull up my be
the adventure panties. The locals look, then laugh as I head off to
avoid other poppy fields in search of wishes come true.
