Peeing Yourself when Trapped in an Elevator

Posted: May 24, 2013 in Uncategorized
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My greatest fear is coming true. My bladder screams profanities at me as fear flicks my eyes in every direction, searching for an escape from this metal cage with ugly carpeting. Oh God, don’t let this happen. The help button has already been pressed and all I can do is wait… but I can’t help but stand on my tip toes and push on the ceiling. Wow! I’m stupid. I have definitely seen one too many action movies. I wouldn’t  know what to even do if I managed to get on top of the elevator, maybe take a leak up there so nobody will ever know my shame.

The scene plays itself in my head as I settle back onto my heels. It’s the same scene that plays in my head every time I step into an elevator, only this time it is a reality: The rescue crew finally opens the doors of the elevator after less than an hour. One grabs my hand to pull me to my feet, only I resist. After a moment, I realize it’s a futile effort and I give in and get to my feet. I see his eyes travel to the puddle I was quite literally sitting in. I see him pretend he didn’t notice, but we both know what just happened. And I am mortified. What sort of teenager is so incontinent that they piss themselves in public?

I hear a frustrated grunt and glance to my left, yanked out of my thoughts as I remember: I am not alone in this elevator. I eye the woman next to me. She is portly with red hair and her eyebrows are graying, putting her somewhere around fifty. Out of nowhere she lets out a frustrated shriek and kicks the wall of the elevator. I flinch slightly but don’t have time to recover as she turns to me.

“I can’t believe I’m stuck in this fucking elevator. When I get out of this I’m going right back upstairs to give my ungrateful bitch of a daughter a piece of my mind,” she shouts as if I’m the one she is angry with.

This was not what I was expecting from a stranger. I unconsciously take a step back only to find a cold wall blocking me in. Trapped.

“What do you think you’re looking at punk?” the stranger danger bellows in my ear, shooting a line of shock through my body. She’s gotten close. Much closer than I like. I murmur comforting words. Generic things. I know how to calm people down.

Her anger turns back to her daughter and I get more information than I ever would have wanted  about their relationship. Her daughter is allegedly a horrible person who wont even let this red-headed lady spend time with her grandchildren. Her daughter doesn’t appreciate everything her mother has done for her. She ruined her mother’s life. She is a waste of space. She makes her mother want to kill herself. She can’t do anything right.

I just keep murmuring comforting words.

Suddenly, this stranger is no longer a stranger. This stranger is my own bipolar mommy dearest telling me what she thinks. I close my eyes and try not to hear as it’s pounded into my head that I ruined my mother’s life. Trying not to think doesn’t block out the fact that I am an ungrateful bitch. I open my eyes and I’m trapped in my closet, mother standing in the doorway. My mother who knows me well enough to know what words hurt the most. I cringe as she throws it in my face that I’m the reason she wants to kill herself. I can’t do anything right. I’m a waste of space.

A waste of space who really has to pee. My twitching bladder gives my mind a reality check and I really open my eyes to look around me. I let out a long breath as I remind myself that I am in an elevator and this woman is a complete stranger. Though, she is a complete stranger who has not run out of breath even with all this shouting. I marvel at this feat as I inspect the ugly carpet once again. Would my pee stain this forever? Will I be forced to face my shame every single time I enter this elevator?

Thankfully this question remains unanswered. I hear noises from outside the elevator and feel thumps against the metal. Help is here. My bladder just might write them a thank you note. And best of all, that woman finally shut up.

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  2. laislinns says:

    Beautifully written.

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