28 July 2005

The road to Hell is paved with empty soft drink cups.

Jesus spent a couple of days in Hell once. I can relate. I’ve been to New York City.

A few years back I flew out of JFK to the dusty far-off. I started out from central Pennsyltucky with an apple and a 44 ounce soft drink.

“Why would anyone purchase a 44oz soft-drink?” You might ask. “Who could possibly drink it all?” Well, the answer to those questions are “It was on sale” and “me” respectively. By the time I made it to the George Washington bridge, the soft-drink was asking, nay, demanding to be let out.

“Only twenty miles as the crow flies”. I thought. No problem. I cruised past the last public toilet for fifty miles, without a care in the world

An hour later I was one hundred yards further.

“No worries” I thought. “Plan B.” I could surreptitiously position the empty cup and bail.

Tourists in adjacent vehicles, who had previously ignored me, now witnessed my discomfit and came to the conclusion that I was a local.

“Look daddy, it’s snarling” A child shrieked gleefully. “A Noo Yawka!”

“Hey buddy, how do we get to Times Square?” Asked another tourist.

GET OUT OF MY WAY, YOU FUCKING RETARDS!” I roared. A Japanese family stood next to my car while Papa-San took their picture.

I'LL EAT YOUR FUCKING LIVERS!” I added. They smiled at each other. This, they thought to themselves, was why they came here; an authentic New York experience.

With no outlet, the hedgehog in my bladder grew. The next two hours passed in a painful blur. I vaguely recall calling an elderly Italian gentleman “Grand-mama Pus-nuts” as I cut him off at the airport off-ramp. I also may have run over a nun or two.

I parked in the most remote corner of the parking lot and pretended to be fascinated with paint work of a convenient panel van.

A nice Hindu family mistook my appearance of total bliss for enlightenment and parked next to me. “Excuse me Sir” The father started “Could you tell me…”

The echinoderm in my bladder spasmed as I clenched off the flow.

Now I am become Shiva, destroyer of worlds

The poor man quickly evacuated his family to a friendlier locale; (I’m guessing Mexico) and I returned to the task in hand.

I later recounted this story to a colleague. He shook his head sadly.

“Evil, you’re a moron.” He said. “Keep a rain coat in the car. When you’re stuck in traffic, don it and pop the bonnet. Lean over the engine and pretend to inspect it whilst you whiz away.”

Genius! I’ve since tried this method, and it works well. Just watch out for moving belts.

Trust me on this one.

And that's the way I likes it.