Let me preface this with some fun facts about myself:
I don't really get embarrassed. I have a sneaking suspicion the part of my brain that is supposed to get embarrassed is currently being squished by a cyst/ too busy memorizing song lyrics. Lots of embarrassing things have happened to me, sure, I just don't typically classify them that way. I mean, I flashed like a zillion people a week ago and followed it by saying "meh, boobs."(Follow up story! My crutches have managed to snap the underwire in ALL OF MY BRAS, so if that incident repeats itself, it's going to be a lot more National Geographic than Mean Girls, if you know what I'm saying. So prepare yourself for that blog post, my friends.)
Basically, I'm the girl you send to buy your tampons because the cashier's too cute, or whatever- I get that things are supposed to be embarrassing, I just...don't really feel it.
This is a face that knows no shame
So this is really more of an anecdote I think people will relate to as being embarrassing- but it wasn't my most embarrassing moment, persay. If you find it does not fill your embarrassing anecdote needs, I will be more than happy to tell you about the time I puked at walmart (twice!), walk of shamed in front of my then-home teacher (college!), or ugly cried in like, six different countries (snot!).
But first, a continuation of the fun facts!
As I've mentioned on numerous occasions, I drink a lot of water. The estimation of an average 5 liters was by no means exaggerated- I totally drank a liter of water while writing this.
I also have a delicate lady-bladder, so I end up sprinting to the bathroom many, many times a day.
I also really love road trips. Actually, that's not totally true- I love grown-up road trips. I love children, I do not love being in cars with them for extended periods of time, and furthermore I don't believe that anyone does. So, I love grown up lady road trips, where you can listen to the explicit version of Some Nights on repeat for six hours to perfect the four part harmony instead of Barney's greatest hits, or whatever.
I am also a notedly terrible driver. I will be the first one to admit this. At the earlier point of my driving career, it was the responsibility of the passenger to yell "It's okay, we're from Europe!" out the window after my traffic infractions. My most frequently cited reasons for wanting a man are: to drive me around, kill spiders, make out on demand and occasionally assure me that I'm not crazy. Luckily three out of the four can be accomplished by gay guys, but that's a story for another day.
In order to survive driving during the aforementioned road trips, I've perfected a formula over several bouts of trial and error: Driving mix CDs played at full volume, a constant rotation of energy drinks and water, and a route of planned bathroom stops along the way.
The only flaw in this glorious formula is that between the excessive water drinking and the caffeine from energy drinks, I sometimes need to, ah, make some additional bathroom stops. Which wouldn't be a big deal, if it weren't for the complete lack of civilization in most of utah -where the majority of my driving took place- and the fact that I have never mastered peeing in the wild. So more frequently what happens is I'd pull into the nearest building I thought will have bathrooms, park in a manner that would make Jason Bourne weep at my recklessness, and throw myself into the the building like a cannonball on fire, disregarding all who might work/live there until my needs are met, or rather, relieved. It's for this reason that Vegas houses multiple casinos they would really prefer I not visit again- sorry, security guard at Circus Circus! Maybe you should mark your fire exits from the outside, too!
Anyways, there came a night when I was driving from Vegas to Cedar City by myself at around 3 AM. I actually prefer to make long drives at this hour of the night- less traffic. However, this also led to my drinking more energy drinks than usual, and taking more breaks than usual. I thought I was doing okay, and making good time at that, about twenty miles outside of Cedar. I figured I'd stop at the walmart on the edge of town, and I'd be good until I got home. Ten miles later, I realized this was not the case. Luckily there's a nice rest stop about six miles outside of the city- why I'm not sure, there aren't exactly any big tourist attractions there. Empty venom cans rolling at my feet while lady gaga sang about not wanting to be friends, I swung into the lot and started running for the building.
I did not make it.
My friends, I totally wet my pants. In a big way. Had I been in kindergarten, this would have merited a call home and request for dry clothes. Honestly, this is not the firs time I've done this, I'm sure it won't be the last (lots of water! delicate lady bladder! poor timing!) and it wouldn't even be noteworthy, except at that point I heard a car door close behind me.
I turned around to see an entire family of Asian tourists who had evidentially witnessed the entire event. To this day, I'm still not sure what they were doing there- again, it was three in the morning- but I did what I had to do.
"Welcome to Southern Utah!" I said, "Enjoy our picturesque mountain views!" And I waddled back to my car to change.