The one thing you don’t want to do is mis-time your toilet breaks.
A couple of drinks and a chat with a fellow geek from New Zealand in the pub last night. We get up to leave.
Ahh, that was a nice drink. Nothing much going on just at the moment, says the bladder.
We part outside Flinders Street Station, he’s bound for the tram stop, I head for platform 6.
Well you could go now, but it’s not urgent, and the toilets here are usually a bit bleuch.
Ah! The train’s waiting there. Express, as well. Find a seat, dig out my copy of MX. … Train leaves, pulls into Spencer Street … Flagstaff …
Hey, you know, that was a lot of beer. That last one was rather big. You know how alcohol goes through the system. Might be nice to find a toilet.
… Melbourne Central… … Parliament …
There’s toilets at all these stations. Sure you don’t want to stop off and catch the next train? Oh, but you’d have to wait. And the next one wouldn’t be an express. Not far to home.
… Richmond … South Yarra …
You know you need to go. But it’s express now to Malvern. Then only a couple more stops to home. Maybe you can wait.
… express, express, express, Malvern …
Okay, you officially really need to go. I know, I know, there’s no toilet here. Hang on until Caulfield, then decide. Or just go home. Only… what.. two more stops? 4 minutes. Plus the walk home, about 8 minutes. You can last 12.
… Caulfield …
Yes, you’re busting, but you might as well hang on. Just one more stop then the walk.
We pull into Carnegie. I stand up and walk to the door and realise just how badly out of hand this has got.
Oh man, relief is needed fast. Maybe if it’s too much you can go behind a tree in the park next to the station.
Well that would hardly be very dignified, would it. Besides, the blindingly bright lights of the station ensure there is nowhere nearby where one’s actions can be obscured.
I walk along the street, attempting to exude confidence. But inside my bladder is crying; screaming.
You need to go! You need to go! You should have gone before! You should have gone before!
I reach my street. Not much further now.
Full full full full full full full full.
This is bad. I get out my keys. Have the front door key at the ready. Ah, there’s my car, parked on the street today, outside my house. (Long story).
Ah, at last. Almost there. At last.
Wait! It’s not my car. It’s someone else’s car, someone else’s house. Mine’s 30 metres further on.
Get to my place, ignore the mailbox, fumble with the keys.
Fumble, fumble. Open front door, go in, dump bag in hallway, walk briskly to the toilet.