The three hour drive from Mumbai to Pune during the monsoon had proved to be anti-climatic. The weather was overcast but there were very drops of rain and definitely not any mud slides.
Also once moving out of the suburbs of Bombay, the landscape was incredible. There were plush green hills, mountains, countryside, and miles and miles of open space. Occasionally there was a person that was walking alongside the road – but mostly it was over the road trucks transporting goods, infrastructure pieces – cement, pipes, and girders – that overtook the company car that drove me at breakneck speed.
An hour into the drive, I asked the driver to stop at a rest stop so I could pee.
We turned off the highway to a half paved and half dirt road where there was a gasoline station and next to a hill and next to it was a hastily constructed building with wooden stairs and ramps – one leading to the woman’s bathroom and another leading to the man’s bathroom.
Funny, when my bladder realized I was about to release it – it almost couldn’t hold. I hurried inside and it was packed. It was a strange sight being the only foreigner in the room. So everybody looked me up and down. I waited for a couple of minutes and suddenly one of the urinals came available. I stepped up quickly, unbuttoned my fly, and aimed.
It was halfway through I noticed that the pee that was already in there was not going anywhere – and I saw the pee level rising against the rim of the urinal. It was rising, rising, and rising. And my pee kept coming and coming.
That’s when I wished I could be a girl, have the superpower to stop peeing in mid-stream – pull my pants up – walk somewhere else or go somewhere else – and pee again.
Finally – I saw the pee start to overtake the rim and in deep yellow engulf the white porcelain. It flowed over neatly and smoothly like overfilling a milk glass. I stopped my stream and stepped back to avoid the splatter.
That’s when I just buttoned up again. And I turned around. Quickly, there was another man who took my spot who obviously didn’t let it bother him about the overfill.
I waited outside the toilets for another couple of minutes doing a battle with my bladder.
Finally someone walked out and I hurried inside.
Upon fastening the door, the smell hit me. But it was too late. My bladder had made friends with the toilet and I found myself extracting and continuing where I had left off just minutes ago.
Upon leaving, I tried to wash my hands but it was a moot point so I just walked outside. I took the steps and ramp down. And that’s when I noticed all the men leaning forwards on the railing extracting themselves and just aiming at the ground below.
“Why did I go inside to the bathroom?” I asked myself outloud.
One of the Indian guys standing nearby and who was peeing overhead me and turned and looked me over curiously.
I got to the company car and the driver was waiting by the door. He was all smiles.
“Thanks so much,” I said.
“Yessir.” And with that he opened the door to the backseat passenger seat in the car, I climbed inside and we were off again.
Also once moving out of the suburbs of Bombay, the landscape was incredible. There were plush green hills, mountains, countryside, and miles and miles of open space. Occasionally there was a person that was walking alongside the road – but mostly it was over the road trucks transporting goods, infrastructure pieces – cement, pipes, and girders – that overtook the company car that drove me at breakneck speed.
An hour into the drive, I asked the driver to stop at a rest stop so I could pee.
We turned off the highway to a half paved and half dirt road where there was a gasoline station and next to a hill and next to it was a hastily constructed building with wooden stairs and ramps – one leading to the woman’s bathroom and another leading to the man’s bathroom.
Funny, when my bladder realized I was about to release it – it almost couldn’t hold. I hurried inside and it was packed. It was a strange sight being the only foreigner in the room. So everybody looked me up and down. I waited for a couple of minutes and suddenly one of the urinals came available. I stepped up quickly, unbuttoned my fly, and aimed.
It was halfway through I noticed that the pee that was already in there was not going anywhere – and I saw the pee level rising against the rim of the urinal. It was rising, rising, and rising. And my pee kept coming and coming.
That’s when I wished I could be a girl, have the superpower to stop peeing in mid-stream – pull my pants up – walk somewhere else or go somewhere else – and pee again.
Finally – I saw the pee start to overtake the rim and in deep yellow engulf the white porcelain. It flowed over neatly and smoothly like overfilling a milk glass. I stopped my stream and stepped back to avoid the splatter.
That’s when I just buttoned up again. And I turned around. Quickly, there was another man who took my spot who obviously didn’t let it bother him about the overfill.
I waited outside the toilets for another couple of minutes doing a battle with my bladder.
Finally someone walked out and I hurried inside.
Upon fastening the door, the smell hit me. But it was too late. My bladder had made friends with the toilet and I found myself extracting and continuing where I had left off just minutes ago.
Upon leaving, I tried to wash my hands but it was a moot point so I just walked outside. I took the steps and ramp down. And that’s when I noticed all the men leaning forwards on the railing extracting themselves and just aiming at the ground below.
“Why did I go inside to the bathroom?” I asked myself outloud.
One of the Indian guys standing nearby and who was peeing overhead me and turned and looked me over curiously.
I got to the company car and the driver was waiting by the door. He was all smiles.
“Thanks so much,” I said.
“Yessir.” And with that he opened the door to the backseat passenger seat in the car, I climbed inside and we were off again.
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