Recently, I took a short trip of a little over four hours to visit a friend. He lives in a small cabin in an isolated, but accessible area of a nearby mountain range, far from civilization. About an hour into my trip, I began to feel an uncomfortable, but familiar sensation. Stopping at a Dunkin Donuts restaurant, I parked, and moved swiftly towards the last available place to procure coffee, and use the facilities, before reaching my destination. A small town with a diner and a gas station were conveniently located near my friend’s cabin, but there was at least a hundred and fifty miles of forest-lined highways, and mountain roads between my current location, and the next stop.
Entering the Dunkin Donuts, I rapidly and awkwardly moved towards the men’s room, only to face a sign on the door saying, “Sorry, bathroom is closed.” Turning to the women’s restroom, and praying it wasn’t occupied, I saw another sign with the words, “Out of Order,” displayed in big bold letters. Is it just me, or wouldn’t you think an establishment selling bladder bursting, hot and cold beverages, would either have a plumber on site twenty-four hours a day, or provide emergency, portable restrooms for customers to use at all times? I can tell you this; I reallyyy………. had to go. Skipping the coffee, and heading to my car, I figured somewhere ahead in an inhospitable, and bear-filled wilderness was a tree along the side of the road with my name on it.