Weirdos in Logan, and Other Tales From the Road. Chapter Six.

Forward
Chapter One: The Shadowboxing Magician
Chapter Two: Bug Eyes
Chapter Three: Lasso of Death
Chapter Four: Future Pilot
Chapter Five: Soldiers Making Out
Chapter Six: Steve Almost Pees Himself. Literally.

"Do you think I can pee in this bottle?" Steve whispers, lifting a Poland Springs water bottle out of the cup holder.

"What? Absolutely not. We're almost there," I tell him.

Who even knows where we are. I've been sitting bitch in the back of a big van with eight strangers for over two hours. I just want to get home.

"Seriously. I have to go bad," Steve informs me, eyes wide and leg twitching. "Ask him how close we are."

"No. You ask him. You're the one who has to pee."

"Seriously, Maria it's not funny. Ask him. I can't. COME ON!"

Steve starts loosening the bottle cap when he realizes I won't ask.

"STEVE! You can't pee in that bottle. We are in a van full of strangers! There's a girl sitting right next to me! Relax!"

I'm on the verge of tears laughing so hard. Steve is angry because I'm laughing instead of solving his problem. He loosens his seat belt and looks out all windows for a sign or a suitable tree.

"MARIA!"

"... Sir!" I say in a shaky voice laughing hysterically. "Do you know about how far we are?" I am trying to contain my laughter. The driver doesn't hear me.

Arv is sitting in the row in front of us just behind the driver. He leans over and repeats my question.

"Oh! We're about two hours out!" the driver chuckles.

"Make him fucking pull over," Steve screams in my ear. "I can't wait."

The tears are flowing. The driver says he's joking and we'll be at Detroit Metro Airport in about fifteen minutes. It's the next exit. I tell Steve to relax, but he can't. He is sitting on the edge of his seat, one hand on the water bottle, eyes beckoning the exit. Five minutes go by. Ten minutes go by.

"Maria, ask him to pull over or I will piss in this bottle," he says testing his belt buckle and trying to work out the logistics of subtly pissing in a bottle in the back of a crowded van.

"Steve calm down now. There's nothing I can do. We're almost there."

Arv turns around and asks if he's going to be okay. I tell him no.

"I'M GOING TO PISS MYSELF," Steve announces to the van. "I have to go bad!"

I am crying hysterically. Arv is staring concernedly. Everyone else ignores him, not sure what to do.

We drive off the exit and approach the airport. There's a lot of traffic and we're not moving very fast.

Steve stares at me. He stares at the traffic. His shaking leg is moving the van. The driver has no idea. Arv keeps looking back to see if Steve has pissed himself yet.

We finally reach the building but the driver can't find the Delta gate. Steve is grunting. His eyes are watering. The driver goes on and on about holiday travel and the awful traffic jams. Arv notices that Steve is about to give up.

"Can we just let him out here?" he asks the van. "Can you stop quick so he can go?"

"He's going to have an emergency," I add.

The driver pulls over and Steve runs out of the van sprinting toward the door without a word. We can see him hustling through the glass windows. I am laughing hysterically in the silent van.

Crisis averted.