So in honor of my previous post, I want to share a story. I was one of those kids that wet the bed until I was, well, until I was 29 and counting. Now, no, it's not an every night event, but it has happened twice since I was a kid of about 11 or so. One of those times was two years ago, and another was just a couple of weeks ago.
Two years ago, I was helping out at a men's camp out. It was great, until the camp out ended and I had to sleep over at a strangers house in a Missouri town that I can't even begin to pronounce. The man was nice, but conversation was minimal as both of us were exhausted from a weekend with a bunch of teenage boys. So, we went to bed. I in the guest room, and he with his wife.
I tucked myself in and was out in minutes. The next thing I remember is waking up in a pool of my own urine, completely horrified. I cleaned up the best I could but was utterly embarrassed, especially when I had to explain myself the next morning. That was the last I ever saw of that man. Life ended after I peed all over his bed.
So, I was again horrified to wake in the middle of another puddle a few weeks ago. My first night in Seattle and my first night meeting the family I was currently staying with. I was paralyzed with humiliation. I dreaded the coming morning when I would have to tell this wonderful hospitable family I lost complete control of my bladder and made a mess on their futon, the cover of which was completely ruined. To my surprise, however, the family was very understandable. Though we were both embarrassed, this conversation paved a way for what has been a great friendship.
Though there has to be a better way to cut through the small talk and into the heart of a person than peeing in their bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment