Category Archives: Travel Tribulations

The Art of Peeing in the Dark

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Emergency Room Visit

Emergency Room Visit with the Ugly Duckling tagging along

My theory that putting two Pressgroves together will cause the Universe to spontaneously  explode, has been proved.

A few weeks ago I’d been with little brother, Rick, and ended up in the Great Bend Emergency Room.

This week, I was with older brother, Mike, and we blew the entire electrical grid at The Legends. (You’re probably wondering what this has to do with peeing in the dark – but as Dad would say “Stay in the boat and see where it goes.)

I’d conned my older brother, Mike, into riding with me to the large shopping area to look at camping equipment. Don’t laugh at me. I really am going camping…some day.

One of the things holding me back is the bathroom situation. I have the world’s smallest bladder and I didn’t want to spend my camping evenings stumbling around in the dark trying to find the public outhouse – not to mention the “ewwww” factor of an outhouse.

At the camping store, I planned to purchase my own commode and a privacy tent. I could explain to you what that is, but the internet does a much better job.

“Need an alternative to littering your campsite with poo holes? Check out the Cleanwaste Privacy Tent. This portable outhouse shelters your Cleanwater portable toilet, so you can do your business in private.”

Mike and I put the tent into the shopping cart and headed over to look at flashlights. He cleverly pointed out that a headlamp flashlight would be ideal – hands free.  Thrilled with my purchases, we drove to lunch at a nearby restaurant, where we had a lovely meal.

Because I have the world’s smallest bladder, I headed off to the bathroom.  I’m sitting there, minding my own business when POP! The lights go out.

My first thought was – Dang, I could really use that headlamp right about now.

My second thought was – I wonder if it really is so dark, I can’t see my hand in front of my face. I’m waving my hands in front of my face when I heard whimpering from the stall next door.

A little girl whined “Mom, what’s going on?”

Her equally terrified mother said, in a rising voice of panic. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Hold on,” I said. “You stay where you are and I’ll wander around until I can find the door.” So there I was, arms straight out in front of me, walking around until I hit a wall. I slid my hands along the wall (trying to ignore my “ewww, bathroom wall!” voice) until I located the door.

Pulling it open, light flooded the room. The mother and daughter ran out, leaving me with the dilemma that I needed to wash my hands.  If I let go of the door I’d be plunged into darkness and, even if I could find the sink, I’d have to run my hands along the wall to find the door, sending me into a lifetime spiral of DARK!…dirty hands…LIGHT!…dirty hands, DARK!…

Even though Husband disagrees, I think this is justification for me wearing the headlamp all the time. Don’t you?

Recommended for Out-of-Control Freaks: Bag-O-Calm

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Finally got around to cleaning out my travel purse from my east coast trip.  Found these items, which ended up being a walk down memory lane.

*Boarding Pass.  The trip started with our usual adventurous (my husband would call it torturous) drive to the airport.  I’ll admit it, I’m a terrible backseat driver.  Every few minutes I gasp, grab the door handle and press my foot on the imaginary brake that I wish resided on my side of the car.  What’s weird though is, if I close my eyes, I travel just fine.  It reminds me of watching Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.  When they captured an out-of-control animal they covered its eyes to keep it calm.  I’m thinking about inventing just such a thing for out-of-control freaks such as myself.  I’m going to call it Bag-O-Calm.

*Box of Bandaids.  While in New York we walked about a hundred miles every day and because I was wearing my “trendy” shoes, I got blisters.

*DuaneReade.  Receipt for cushions to put inside stupid “trendy” shoes.

*Reserved Sign.  Went to Birdland where seats were held for my VIP Brother – not Prescoe or even Presscove but Pressgrove.  It’s a difficult name, I know.  Presscot is the usual mistake but my favorite ever had to be Bumgrove.  Now my last name is Vratil – which always, always get’s written out as Brattle.  I’ve learned to say and explain it all in one breath like this. “Vratil-V-As-In-Victor.” One time, while looking for my name on a list, after I said Vratil-V-As-In-Victor, the woman said, “But, I don’t know how to spell Victor.”

*Non-Working Metro Pass Form.  More than once I bought a subway pass and it was rejected.  VIP Brother said this had never happened to him in all the years he’s been in New York. Figures.

*Northshire Bookstore.  Visited my best pal, Gina, and walked into her town’s wonderful independent bookstore.  They had a large sign announcing PRINT ON DEMAND available.  I thought it would be cool to watch a copy of my book come off their press, so I demanded that they print it.  Turns out, it doesn’t work that way and I didn’t go over so well.

*Program for Mark My Words.  Attended a Mark Twain writing program with WTF Alumni, Kerry.  We managed to finagle (pay) our way in to the author’s reception.  As you’ve learned by now, I don’t like strangers so I stood in my well-practiced wallflower position on the edge of the room.  Kerry dared me to go up and talk to someone.  I don’t know why – maybe it was the three diet cokes talking – but I did it.  We ended up meeting two wonderful women, who we chatted with the entire time, totally missing our opportunity to meet the authors.  Which was fine with me because that R. L. Stine seems like one strange stranger.