It's a sunny afternoon and I have the day for exploring commingled with errands. Walking around in a new city with a list of to-do's is usually full of new adventure because familiarity and a daily routine have yet to take root in a newbie. So, first I head into Pharmaca, a natural remedies haven for the homeopathic seekers. I am in the market for feel good herbs (um... legal, of course) and vegan omegas. It turns out, they have a reflexologist on staff from 4-6 p.m. daily and my watch reads 4:06! It's only $1 per minute and in my effort to relax and heal my inner self of its recent upheaval, I request twenty. My efforts are paying off as my reflexologist works on cleansing my organs of toxicity while I phlegmatically recline and sip water and have an enlightened foot massage. She ends by saying "Would you like me to cleanse your aura, there is no extra charge?" My response: "Of course I would!" I might have even paid $2 per minute for that!
This next part of my day is what I like to think of as the more embarrassing part of my task oriented afternoon. It's still sunny and the gifted extension of daylight savings seems to be agreeing with everyone. All of the passersby seem to be wearing their jolly as brightly as mine. Little do I know how one minor inconvenience is about to change my jolly into more of a drippy. Along with my herbal concoctions, vegan pick me ups and cleansed aura, I have a deposit in hand and am headed up the hill to the B of A kiosk, located conveniently two blocks from home, that will happily accept my wages...
Do you think anyone has ever made a deposit and forgotten it? Doesn't the bank wish it could go ahead and keep it after a certain amount of time? Years later, a descendent comes in seeking his (or her) recently deceased grandfather's long overlooked mini-fortune and the snide bank official simply says, "Hey Sir, you snooze you lose." I once forgot to make a $900 deposit for several months, having to be reminded by the person that wrote me the check. I felt like a snob... "oh yeah, that $900. I forgot about that. Whoops..."
Anyway, back to the unavoidable reality that is my afternoon; so, as I was leaving Pharmaca with my freshly pampered, toxin free organs, I felt like I had to use the ladies room. Being in a big city, there are not many public restrooms and I was only heading up the hill so I thought that couple of blocks would be no biggie... I begin my deposit (that will not go forgotten) and rapidly begin to realize my bladder has had enough of my afternoon shenanigans and is ready for its turn. Ready for its turn right now... right NOW. Of course, we begin a very heated discussion as I futilely try to convince it to please give me just a few more minu... uh-oh... now I am hunched over pleading... to no avail. There is officially pee dribbling down my leg. I am actually holding a very inappropriate area of my body for public and more importantly for onlookers going about their normal business. Meanwhile, the kiosk is screaming at me to deposit the next check. "I can't dammit!!!" But unless I slide in the small piece of paper, it will keep screaming or eat my ATM card! I slide in my final check deposit while begging the rude conversationalist in my abdomen for mercy. I'm like, "certainly that little dribble is enough to hold you over for that short stint home" and the bladder's says, "nice try but the time is now." I'm frantically looking around for a covered area as I reconcile with the fact that this is going to have to happen at a time and in a place I don't want it to. The best I can do is a semi-secluded grassy nook with sparsely leafed trees and an onlooking office building. The alternative is to just go. Yup, that's my alternative. So, I rip my card from the barking electronic money eating spit machine, replace my hand in its very impolite position (unless you are three years old) and awkwardly run the painful, and somewhat wet 10 feet, shove my pants to my ankles and... squat. Squat and hope that no-one, "please God! No-one!" pulls in to the parking deck for the kiosk. Please don't let anyone look out their office window! And then I remember the expression that Chad's friend talked of on our double date - "Only in San Francisco!" Thank God for that expression because that is what 9-5'ers above are certainly saying in this very moment.
So, I gather myself together, as best I can and hope that my pants are concealing the disgrace of my ill-fated transaction beneath. I get down the hill and remember that I had taken my keys out in the hopes I could hurry home while I was being brutally attacked by my insides at the bank. My hands are now empty (especially since there is no need to hold anything in anymore). I can only start laughing when the dawning of more parading my embarrassment back up the hill, and then down again, set in. In my haste, I must have thrown the keys in the bush neighboring my grassy "bathroom." So, I walked back up the hill, sticky and wet with humiliation, to fetch what was the key to the door that lead to my cleanliness.
"Hey, look at that girl! She peed her pants and she is laughing out loud! Only in San Francisco!"
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