The Styrofoam Cup Incident

Back in 1977 I was finishing up a project out west of Houston and had another one going down in Crystal City, Texas. I spent a while on the Houston job that morning lining out the guys there. Paul was the one I was leaving in charge. We drank several cups of coffee.

I pulled out about mid morning for south Texas, a good long 5 hour drive. It started to rain and it was a cold wintery day. I got over onto I-10 and was heading to San Antonio.

Somewhere along the way it occurred to me in a big way that all the coffee I had drank was needing a new place to go. The prospects of pulling off and getting into a service station without getting soaked wasn’t very good. I knew if I got wet I would remain that way the rest of the trip. I had left my suitcase at the motel down south the day before, and only had the clothes I was wearing.

It was just me and my thoughts driving along so, seeing that Paul had left his styrofoam cup in the drink holder, I decided I could discreetly make use of the cup going down the highway.

I knew I had waited too long to go, but once the release started it felt so good. It felt so good that it gave me a warm feeling.

What I discovered was the warm feeling was due to the hole Paul poked in the bottom of the cup with his finger. I could tell the cup was emptying rapidly. So I had to decide if I wanted to sit there and allow it all to run under my bottom side or try to lift it up and have a mess all over me.

Well since the seat was already getting the brunt of it and it wasn’t going to get much worse, I’d just set it out. Luckily it was when most work trucks had rubber floor mats and you could just hose the whole inside out.

I didn’t like the idea that I’d be sitting in my own urine for the next 4 hours but what else was there for me to do.

I guess that whole thing had my mind occupied, because watching to gas gauge sure as heck wasn’t what I was doing. I headed up a pretty good grade several miles east of Luling and the engine sputtered and died.

The rain stated to let up so, knowing that if I got out I could get someone to haul me on down to Luling where I could get a can of gas and then get a ride back out there to my truck.

Three good ole boys in a pickup came along and were good enough to stop. Sure they’d be happy to take me down to the next gas station. We all 4 crowded up in the cab of their old pickup. It didn’t take but a couple of minutes until the heat of that old floor mounted heater had the smell of urine permeating the entire can. As cold as it was the driver and I each cracked our windows.

There just wasn’t enough time to try to explain. I’m sure they a had a good discussion about ole pissy pants after they got me out of there.

For what ever reason I got myself a gas can full of gas and walked about 200 yards down the road to where my Grandmother, Maw-Maw Nonie had a sister living. I got Aunt Ella to haul me back to my truck. I guess I figured that since she cared for her mother, Grandma Purcell and she was almost a hundred years old and was probably incontinent she was used to the smell.

She dumped me out and I was soon on my way. Being sisters like she and Nonie were they talked about everything. Nonie never ask me about why I smelled so bad, so I figured she and sister Ella never talked about it.

That was one of the best and most relaxing hot showers I ever remember having when I finally got to my room that afternoon.

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