Ich muss

So last weekend, Oliver, Lucy, and I went to visit my parents.  The trip there is normally three hours, but because of a sinkhole that closed the eastbound interstate, it ultimately took five hours.  Other than Oliver crying on and off, I also had a problem -- I had to pee.  There was no signs along the detour to tell how long it would take until we got somewhere with a bathroom.  I was getting seriously desperate.  I finally, after hemming and hawing, pulled onto the shoulder and was going to go into the bushes to go to the bathroom.  It was standstill traffic, and I honestly thought I was going to lose it.  Just as I pulled over, a cop pulled up behind me.  I pulled back into traffic, then rolled down my window to explain myself to the cop.  He wasn't sympathetic, but he wasn't mad either.  At that point, I started to worry for my well being.  I considered the mechanics of peeing into a bucket I had in the car for the dog, but it wasn't possible with me behind the wheel.  It was another twenty minutes or more before we made it off the interstate, then another ten to a gas station with a restroom.  Oliver had taken his shoes and socks off in the car, and I didn't have the time to put them back on.  Of course, I didn't think about the fact that he would then be standing in a nasty public bathroom.  But it was too dire a situation to really worry about that. 

I, fortunately, got relief, which was good since there was another hour to the delay.  Oliver got his diaper changed, and Lucy got a quick spin in the grass.  I'm starting to think I should travel with a urinary catheter in hand.