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.