When It’s Time To Go

Roadtrip emergencies have zero respect for who you are, where you are or even who you are with. They only respect one thing, time. When its time then its got to be done.
Getting rid of such emergencies requires a certain level of skill, boldness, tact and precise timekeeping. You must not go before its time, because you will have to go again and you will have lost the time advantage. Time seems to be the main factor since the location is based on time, how long and whether the day/night’s captain will actually agree to stop.
Women seem to have an overall advantage over men. She will hurriedly walk to the Captain and request for a toilet break. She will get more than that. The vehicle will be immediately parked by the roadside and she will be granted armed escort. The key boot and the wheel spanner are quite lethal weapons. Then, she will get apologies for the cause of her indigestion and will get expert advise on where and how and what and when to eat when travelling.
At times one can get lucky and play the false alarm card, but be warned. Know your limits. An innocent fart can rapidly escalate into a Hurricane. You however, can never tell the extremes of the emergencies. You may hence run out of time, water, wipes, patience or even bush.
My cousin and I had booked two seats to head back to the village. We took our seats and the journey was uneventful. In Nakuru we decided to double our intakes as the journey was getting better and better. We stocked up on more soft drinks, pre-diluted the hard stuff we had too. A couple of seats ahead of us were some funny ladies and it turned into some sort of an alcohol sharing contest. We would pass them the bottles and they would pass them back. Soon our bladders showed signs of strain as early as in Salgaa. The ladies went to the driver and we were allowed to ‘kill their snakes’ just before the Sanchangwan incline. We did this as a pack. We were tighter than cigarettes in a pack.
I cant remember how and why things went south, because just after Mau Summit, we fell out with the ladies.
The sneaky little devils secretly requested to be allowed to relieve themselves under the guise of purchasing groceries. We had no clue and proceeded knowing we still had a chance to go when they went.
Things moved from bad to worse with every pothole. I tried my luck with the driver who blatantly refused. I jokingly threatened to flood the bus and he dared me to. I folded and went back to my seat My cousin had reached his boiling point and the ladies must have dozed off. We weighed our options factoring in the distance to Kericho. Since the bus was only half full, the back seats were unoccupied. We hatched several plans. We instantly dismissed a couple among them letting off on one of the seats and switching places, shouting and wailing and another of feigning sickness.
Only two plans seemed realistic and practicable. Move to the back seat and pee through the window. I opted for this. My cousin though more tipsy than I was decided that he would down the contents of one of the plastic bottles and pee inside then toss it out of the window. We soon got to work and realised that we hadn’t really thought through our plans. Nothing was easy. I decided to go first.
This particular bus had those designs where the window is slightly ahead of the seat. I could only place one knee on the seat and try to conclude my business. I got down to business and it was a gigantic task. I pried the window open and let loose, things went on fine and I was impressed with my progress, but then I got cocky and decided to stick my face out. We hit a bump and lets just say, my belly suddenly got warm. I hastily concluded and headed back to where my cousin had relocated to. He was still trying to clear the contents of a plastic bottle. I shared my experience and he laughed out loud and promised to show me how its supposed to be done. He refused to pour out the contents of the bottle but was soon done. He proceeded to go about his business and he was even boastful about it. I realised that his method was more superior than mine. Then he cursed, not once but thrice. He had underestimated his capacity vs his vessel of choice. He kept shouting ‘Nipe chupa ingine, hii imejaa’. I burst out laughing. I kept on laughing as he fought a loosing battle trying to empty diluted soda so that he could finish whatever he had started doing.
I kept laughing and laughing as his shouts faded away. He was now quiet and having changed into a fresh top, proceeded to asses the damage he had caused. Lets just say, he had run out of space to empty his bladder into. His trousers were soaked, part of his seat and he had even tried to salvage the situation using his hands as a reservoir.
Luckily the girls were still asleep and I don’t think anybody else had seen what we had gone through.
What’s your worst in-flight experience?

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