In Which Miss Jill Explains Why She Covets The Rights Of The Geriatric Crowd To Use Depends/Miracle On The N Train

2002, Remote Jungle Road, Dominican Republic

I stared at the empty water bottle in my hand with a pang of remorse. I tried to create a barrier between my mind and my pulsating bladder and squeezed my legs together in a vice-like grip. It wasn't working and I started to fight back the tears. We were still an hour from our next destination and I knew that I would never make it. However, the only buildings in sight were the tin huts of local villagers.

My friend, Drea, did a quick visual analysis of my plight and decided that it had the potential to end very badly. She took charge and implored the chain smoking tour guide, I think his name was Oscar, but I can't remember, someone can probably help me out with that, to stop the bus immediately. If this had not happened, I could probably have used this story as the answer to "What was your most embarrassing moment?" We stopped the bus and Oscar had a quick chat with a local farmer. Said farmer indicated that my problem could be solved by a visit to his outhouse, which was at the top of a large hill. My shame at the fact that everyone on that bus was privy to the fact that my bladder could not be attributed to being in the family way or an AARP membership was diminished by the relief that I experienced from using that unhygienic hole.




12:30 a.m. December 2010, N Train, Brooklyn, New York

I just read that some people were trapped on this train all night two stops from my house, due to Snowmageddon and the raging impotence of the MTA. I am glad to be in Chicago. A few weeks ago, I went to dinner with my cousins and got on the train to Brooklyn without using the facilities first. The N is usually express, but it stops at all local stops on the weekends, moves really slowly and frequently stalls for no reason. These problems add about an hour to my trip. Even before the train crossed over into Brooklyn, I started to experience the familiar pains. It rapidly became unbearable. I weighed my options as I looked glared jealously at all the happy people with empty bladders surrounding me. I thought about getting out, but it was really late and I did not know if I would be able to find somewhere to go.

When I was about a half hour away from home, I felt the familiar tears form in my eyes. I started fervently praying that I would not have an unfortunate accident (although based on the way the subways smell sometimes, I would not be the first). I was amazed when seconds later, the conductor announced that they would be skipping all of the stops (at least ten) until the stop right before mine. As everyone else dropped f bombs on the MTA and got out, I knew immediately that a miracle had taken place. Amen

Now, for some rewards:


Best Facilities In An Unexpected Place: Bryant Park, New York City
These bathrooms were even finalists for an award.



Bathroom That Made Me Dry Heave: Bathroom, Honduras/Guatemala Border

My advice is that if someone hands you a bucket of dirty water as you are entering, you would probably be better off finding a private place in the jungle.



I haven't been to Asia or Africa, so I'm sure that I can be one upped on that one.