Trouble Down Under September 29, 2009Posted by Lipstick in Crime, Terrorist Hemorrhoids, Travel.
All right folks, sit right back while I tell you a tale.
Back in January on the cruise, we made a stop in Christchurch, New Zealand and took an excursion into the country. We rode the bus way up into the hills and stopped for lunch at a “station”, what they call a ranch. Here is a photo of the grounds:
They served us a very nice lunch with some local wine (I, as always, snagged my sister’s wine as well.) Then we went outside and strolled around the lovely property and I smoked cigarette or two. Ahhh, perfection.
Soon we rode up another hill which had a wonderful view:
This was the place where we were met by three 4-wheel drive vehicles that would take us through some very rugged terrain.
Oh, this was not going to be just bumpy or have the occasional pothole, this was going to be a head banging against the ceiling, stream crossing, hill climbing, kidney bashing, tailbone smashing ride. But when the 4x4s showed up, we doubled over at the sight of a port-a-potty being hauled behind the first one. This thing was hanging on behind, jumping and bobbing and it was the funniest sight! Here’s what it looks like at rest:
Oh we laughed! HAHAHAHAHA! Look at that! What a hoot!
Then we got into the third vehicle and started the rest of the trip. It went through sheep pastures, more hills, streams and lots of bouncy terrain. Bounce bounce bounce. Bouncy bouncy. And then I felt it. Lunch, making its way downward. Bouncy bouncy.
Eh, no big deal, I could last a couple of hours till our destination, I told myself. Just digesting, no need to panic, this feeling will go away in a bit. Pop a Pepcid, enjoy the scenery and don’t be a wuss. Bounce bounce.
Oh. My. The feeling didn’t go away, it only increased. “Shut up”, I said to myself, this is not the time or the place, and besides, it’s mind over matter — that’s right, your mind can have power over what your body does and right now you are out in the middle of nowhere with no way to go to the bathroom and the potty is two miles ahead of us. Yeah, the one we were laughing at and mocking half an hour ago. Miiiind contrrrrol.
May I say right now that the idea that the mind can control intestinal distress is a load of crap? Oh heck, don’t mention that word!
No, really, don’t think about it. Start thinking about contingency plans. Fast. Okay, I can ask the driver to stop. Alright, what do I do then? There are no trees or adequate shrubbery nearby — just miles of pastures and sheep. Suck it up, you can last it out. A few more minutes go by. Oh no. It’s beyond urgent here, think of something!
So here was the plan: I tell the driver I’m car sick and need to go outside to vomit. Yeah, throwing up seems downright genteel compared to what I really had to do, so that was fine. Then I got a bunch of Kleenex from my backpack, stuffed them in my jeans pocket and planned to go behind the van and hold on the the back bumper, hopefully out of view from the people in the back seat. Sorry for the awful image, but the fact is, I just didn’t care anymore. I didn’t care if anyone saw me squatting like an animal in the field, I just needed out of there fast.
I get halfway out of my seat to go up and tell the driver and see in front of me through the windshield the most glorious sight:
Isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? Well, it was to me and this is my true story so you all are going to have to live with it. Ahh, sweet blue box of bliss, peaceful purveyor of privacy. Nirvana.
And when I emerged from that heavenly haven, there was Dad, pointing, laughing and taking pictures.
I love my family. Really. Most of the time.