It had only been two hours, and I had to pee. I did not know if the bus would pause on its four-hour journey to Chendu, but I was becoming increasingly keen on finding out the answer. There was the possibility that the unmarked door hid a bathroom, but no one else had even stood up to stretch, and I felt bad waking up the person next to me. Option C involved the empty bottle lying at my feet. Option C was only barely an option, but it beat death by bladder infection (Option F).
The thinking only made it worse, and I had to try the mystery door, fool or no. I stumbled over my neighbor, waking him up and knocking his soda bottle to the floor. In the silent bus, it sounded like dice in a tin cup. All eyes were on me as I went to the door and gingerly tried the handle. It was a bathroom. A small choir of angels burs into song. Take that, Option C.
Five minutes after I emerged from the smelly and faucetless bathroom, the bus stopped at a beautifully renovated rest area.
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2 comments:
hahaha! Isn't that typical? Moments of desperation, and the moment they are over you end up at a beautifully renovated rest stop? ;-)
that's always the way, isn't it....
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