“Wait Mom! No, please don’t!” I said under the direst of knowing, that she intended to drag me off to the rest stop bathroom to change my diaper and get me cleaned up. Worse yet, I knew that she had no intention of taking me into the guy’s bathroom, but into the … ‘GULP’ … ladies bathroom!!!
“Mom, can’t you do it right here?” I pleaded as though I were pleading for her to spare my life.
“Alvin! Go with your Mother!” John said vehemently, and for all practical purposes, he’d sealed my doom.
All the way up the walk to the doors of the Rest Stop building I pleaded with her not to take me into the ladies bathroom, but she seemed to have gone completely deaf. She held my wrist so tightly, that it hurt, as she dragged me along behind her.
Before we reached the main door into the rest stop, I had another rear blowout. It wasn’t nearly as loud or violent as the first one had been, but it was loud enough that two teenaged girls, who were standing by the doors, heard it and began giggling and pointing at me.
I looked up at the fluffy white clouds and prayed a quick silent prayer, “Dear God, if you really love me, then kill me now!”
God must have been out golfing or was busy looking after someone else, because he didn’t stop Mom from dragging me all the way into the ladies room.
You know, I’ve always been told women are cleaner and their bathrooms are always nice. I am here to tell you, that is not the case at all. The floor was sticky, the sinks looked like some kind of biology experiment had gone very wrong and then there was the smell. Okay, granted I didn’t smell like a field of springtime daisies, but come on, even I didn’t smell as bad as that bathroom did.
