Stuck on the Highway for 6 Hours and I really need to Pee!

Hwy 401 stretches 828 kilometres (514 mi) from Windsor, Ontario in the west to the Ontario–Quebec border in the east. The part of Highway 401 that passes through Toronto is North America's busiest highway, and one of the widest.

This not necessarily interesting tidbit of trivia is brought to you as an introduction to my poem below regarding the weather event in the Toronto area on Monday, when a near record 60 cm of snow fell in just a few hours. Stories abound of traffic nightmares and abandoned vehicles all over the city, but what caught my attention was the tales of unfortunate folks being stuck in their cars on the 401 for up to 6 hours. My first reaction of course was: What if they had to pee? I don’t know about you, but there’s no way I could hold it for 6 hours. Hopefully there would be a bucket (not likely) or maybe even a coffee cup in the car. Yeah, I know that’s gross, but what are you going to do? Even worse, what if you don’t have a receptacle at all? That’s when my not so normal imagination took over, and this is what it saw:

Stuck here on the highway

I really need to pee

But I don’t have a cup to use

Oh, woe is me.

*

My bladder is overloaded

In pain, I start to fret

If I don’t find a receptacle soon

My pants I’ll surely wet.

*

I grab a water bottle

And start to do a twerk

But I’m not a urine sniper

No, this will never work.

*

So I get out beside the car

Where’s there’s no privacy

There are 16 lanes of traffic

But only 8 can see.

*

I whip my drawers down quickly

I squat and start to go

Then take a look around me

And see people on their phones.

*

They’re taking stills and videos

That they can share online

Of a woman whose urinary system

Ran completely out of time.

*

Oh no! You heartless bastards

How could you be so cruel?

I’m getting really antsy

As the urine starts to pool.

*

The spill that’s underneath me

Has formed an icy slick

When I move to pull my pants up

I crash down like a brick.

*

So now I’m laying face first

In a puddle coloured yellow

I’m having trouble getting up

My legs, they feel like jell-o.

*

I hear laughter all around me

These buggers have no class

I hope they all get blinded by

The glare from my snow white ass.