The Incident

Today started out well, enough. I woke up with the lingering effects of a cold (and a slightly dryer spell) around seven. My boyfriend had already been up for a few hours fiddling around on-line, pampering the dog, doing just about everything in his power to rouse me. I was a little grumpy because he was so damn chipper (I'm not a real morning person, I wake up early, but I take it easy). I made the conscious effort to shake it off because I was heading to visit my family for a couple days and I wouldn't see him until Sunday. We flirted and poked fun at each other to get rid of the tension, and it seemed to work. He left to run to the store and I readied myself to meet a friend for coffee before I caught the bus north. I had the bags packed for the dog and me by the time he came home. We kissed and said our goodbyes and I was out the door with my bag, and dog (and dog carrier) in tow. Just as I left the building I realized I had left the house keys in my pocket. So I ran back up to give them to him...by doing so...I missed my bus. 'No big deal' I thought 'It's not raining; I'll just walk' I called my friend who I was supposed to meet to break the news that I would be (as ever) late. He in turn offered to come pick me up. And he brought coffee. 'Wow' I thought to myself 'things just keep working out'. He drives past where we were going to have coffee and goes to his house. I don't mind, he has better snacks than the coffee shop, anyway. I felt it might actually be a better venue for our meet. I wanted to talk to him about something that was a bit, sensitive (read: wretchingly personal). *skip skip skip skip* *argue*argue*(I'll write about this later....) AND then I left. I walked down to say hello to some friends at my neighborhood watering hole up the street. It was close to the bus stop that I needed to catch in roughly 35 minutes. I make it to the bus with about five minutes to spare, I skim over the paper, making a mental note of the articles I want to read and in what order. How they would fill the 45 minute bus ride. The bus shows, as I board I realize that this bus is MASSIVELY fucking full, and here I am with a rolling (pink with silver-chain) suitcase, a large purse, and a dog in a bag. I push my way almost all the way to the back, where a teenage fella is sprawled out over two seats. I tap him on the leg and say "May I?" His response was "Sheeit. Girl." and my response was to shove my ass in the seat next to him. I crammed the suitcase where my legs were to go, put the purse on the bag and the dog was somehow hovering above those two things and my legs, which were in the aisle. I resigned myself to the fact that I was NOT going to be reading any of the paper, since it was barely possible for me to do a kegel let alone flip through the paper. I thought to myself 'Bree, it's fine. It's only 45 minutes.'. . . . . . . . We had made it out of the city about 15 minutes when the dog bag started moving. Usually, Stella is a master traveler. She naps out in the bag and when we get to the destination I a have to wake her up to get her out. So, this was strange behavior. I un-zipped the top of the bag and her head popped up, I could tell by the look on her face, that something wasn't right. I tried cooing to her and petting her head, when, all of the sudden a foul, vile, stench started emitting from the bag, and something wet, and quite warm, started seeping down my leg. I look straight up to the ceiling, purse my lips, close my eyes. I know what just happened. My dog just had a sloppy, diarrhea, crap IN the carrier, ON my lap on the bus! Teen America next to my instantly pipes up and rats me off to the driver. The driver looks at me in the rear view mirror, nay, judges me, backwards in that damn mirror, shaking his head. He pulls off the freeway at the VERY next exit and instructs me to get off. No words were passed. It was all understood. I gather my things and I carry this seepy, stenchy, raunchy, dog bag up the aisle, trying really hard to not get it on anyone, and trying really hard not to cry. I look at the pay meter as I am getting off, and the driver shrugs a shrug that means "On the house, toots", and I get off. At this point it turns into the scene in the runaway movie where the camera pans to a bus taking off, and there, which was once hid behind the bus, is a woman and her luggage. Standing wide legged and tired, looking straight ahead. I fall into this role perfectly, because then the tears really start a flowing. 'okay' I think, 'no big deal. you got this. Okay. Get the dog out. Oh god, poor Stella!'. I drop my purse to the ground and I un-zip the carrier. She comes flying out, covered in her own shit, of course, and is in a fit. She is afraid she is going to be punished, but she also really has to take another monster ass piss, I soon learn. I calm her down and I set to work on figuring out where in the HELL I am. I know I'm off some freeway exit, but I am under the overpass, and I can't see any street signs. I pick the dog up, roll the bags on top of each other and climb the embankment up to what looks like a main road. N.E. 145th St. It says. I'm saved! That sounds like a pretty main road, and like I'd seen the signs from the freeway before. I start making phone calls to get picked up (after of course making the customary freak out call to the boyfriend--who has his phone turned off because he his having his time to himself. You can imagine the internal(and somewhat external dialog) I was having over that fact.). This is where it all just steps up another notch. Stella starts retching. She is going to hurl. My hands are full of the bags and her and I wasn't about to just drop her on the ground to avoid her puke, so, she pukes on me. There's nothing I can do for her, or me, I don't have a bottle of water, or a napkin, or even a friggin tampon to soak up any of the vile juices that are covering the two of us. All I can do, is get a hold of someone to pick our sorry assess up. Having very few people in my life with cars (oh, enchanted city life), the list is short. I get a hold of the friend from a few paragraphs back, yes the one whose company I left under not such good terms, and I explain the sitch. He,wanting to barrage me with more pointed questions about my choices and judgement that he couldn't fit into our previous engagement, offers to pick me up. All I need to do now is get to a point where he can find me right off of the exit. I see a chiropractor and their parking lot and I figure, what better place. I have my eyes fixed on the lot. I'm carrying my crap covered dog under one arm, her feces, and vomit drying to my yellow trench coat, and I drag my bags toward it. I make it about five steps and the temperature in the air drops considerably. In less than a minute the sky is dark and it starts to sprinkle, but, big drops. In about another minute it is dumping. I catch myself start to laugh, and I go with it. What else can I do? I belly laugh. I look like a crazy person. I'm covered in crap, and vomit, in the rain, and I am laughing my ass off. I slowly walk over to the lot, plop on my ass in the rain, with my dog, and my bags, and I wait.