“If peeing your pants is cool, consider me Miles Davis.”

(Arizona road, taken months ago but eerily familiar to the highway that “the incident” occurred.)

Have you ever, um, pee-peed in your pants? If you answered no, count your blessings! The first time I ever had an “accident” was eight years ago on a spring break trip with all of my high school friends. Completely sober, I thought it would be hilarious to throw shoes over the balcony and onto the beach. So funny, in fact, that when my best friend and I rode the elevator down to retrieve the shoes, I couldn’t hold the hilarity any longer and wet my pants.

 

The second time I’ve ever had an “accident” was tonight. Rocket Man and I went to dinner (a rare occurrence) and we were feeling so frisky that we stopped at the casino on the way home. Three hundred dollars, three hours and three large alcoholic drinks later we were back in the car and heading home. I knew I had to “go” the moment I stepped in the car, but I’m a genius and thought I could hold it. Ten minutes into the drive I looked at Rocket Man and said “you have to pull over! I’ve gotta go!” He barely glanced at me and responded, “hold it.” Five minutes later I said, “I really think you should pull over! I REALLY have to go!” He responded, “we’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Hold it!” And just as he was blurting out his last demand, right there on our brand new leather seats, I wee’d like a three year old learning how to potty train.

 

That definitely got his attention and he quickly swerved onto the shoulder like I had asked him to do, oh, too many minutes ago! He had a good laugh about it after I was forced to bleach the passenger seat. Me, I’m still not sure if I’m laughing, but I do know that I’m never drinking any type of liquid ever again.