Note to Self

A few weeks ago I promised more stories of bad decisions as I started the chaotic season of our summer.

While we were at Freshman Orientation, G went out with her very close friend, Jeffery.  Jeffery is very dear to our family and is more like G’s older brother than friend.  While they were hanging out at Cook Out, Jeffery told G about his last trip home.

Wanting to make the 6 hour trip without stopping, Jeffery decided to make the trip by himself because all of the friends who usually make the trip with him insist on making pit stops.  He stocked up on energy drinks and sodas to get him through the drive.

He was somewhere between Nashville and Jackson when his bladder started telling him it was time for a break.  He didn’t want to stop, so he turned up the stereo for a distraction and kept driving. By the time he was in Jackson, his bladder was screaming for him to stop.

Jeffery, a lanky, pale white, nerdy-down-to-the-black-rimmed-glasses honor studies student in the college of engineering, pondered the problem for a short time and decided to crank up the car’s heater. His logic being that during band camp in high school he took in a tremendous amount of water but didn’t pee any more than usual; therefore,  it must be the extra intake of water was being sweated out instead of building up in his bladder.  What he must do to make it home without stopping to pee is to sweat profusely.  Yeah, sweat; thus, on an extremely hot and humid Tennessee day, he cranked his heater to hotter than hades and tried to sweat out his pee.

A few miles on the other side of Jackson, Jeffery, hunched over his steering wheel, skinny arms shaking from the pain of an overly full bladder and sweating profusely from the self-inflicted heat wave going on in his Jeep, realized that his logic was somehow flawed and that he need to stop or he was going to experience a tsunami in his pants.  He pulled into the next rest stop. As he quickly waddle-shuffled his sweat drenched body to the men’s bathroom, exiting the bathroom is his high-school friend, Lionel, who happens to go to the same college.

After exchanging manly grunts of acknowledgements, Jeffery asked, “What’s up?”

Lionel answered, “Just going home.”

“Me, too,”  Jeffery said and realized that he could have spared himself the misery of a painfully full badder, the embarrassment of looking like a heroin addict going through withdrawals, and the humiliating blow to his ego if he had ridden home with Lionel. And much like the honor student he is, he made a mental note of it.


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