"Uhh, yes?"
"I asked you a question."
"Oh.... sorry. I have to go to the bathroom."
I say no one, friends, no one. We've all been there. Restraining the natural function of our bodies for social, ritualistic, or contestual reasons is and has been (I dare say, not having done any research) one of the most prominent threads of similarity in all human civilizations, societies, and hunter-gatherer groups across the ages.
And so. Here I was, driving the long drive from Corry to Quakertown, a great diagonal trek across Penn's Woods, finding myself in the bind of my forefathers: in need of relief, but bound by the socio-economic pseudo-psycho-constraints of millineum-era American etiquette. I broke a cold sweat and glanced at the odometer. Why, O why, do they put up those signs: "NEXT REST AREA 70 MILES." You smile smugly to yourself as you pass them, thinking, "I'm glad I don't have to go." But it seems that the mere power of suggestion, the thought of how bad it would be to be stranded in the middle of those long, lonely 70 miles, brings about the sudden realization. But then it is too late. Too late! The rest area has flung past you, a distant memory, and you are banished to those torturous 70 miles, watching your fate tick down one tenth-mile at a time.
That was me. Banished. When I could finally exit to the next rest stop, I did so with all due speed. My thoughts might have went something like this: "No time to look for a parking spot I'll just take THIS one (screech) - I can run the rest of the way. I would normally walk with you, baby, but in this case, I'll just see you by the big map with the "YOU ARE HERE" star when we're done. Aieeeee, hold it together, man! Screw sidewalks, what the heck good are they anyway? Who mandated that I should walk all the way around THERE instead of just running in a straight line for the door? This is an emergency anywa...WHOA dog doo at 1 o'clock!!"
When I opened the rest stop door, that is when our paths crossed. Dressed in a bright orange robe and sandals, he barred my way with a smile and a dollar bill. The only thing that could've shocked me enough to push bodily urgencies from my mind was an elderly, 5'1" Buddhist monk smiling up at me in a Pennsylvania rest stop. And there he was. The monk shoved the dollar bill at me and said "Xiaun du jaio!" (which means nothing because I just made it up, but he said something in some asian-type language). He shuffled over to a vending machine and repeated, "Xiaun du jaio!" I looked dumbly at the dollar bill in my hand, and past urgencies came rushing back. However, I decided to help. I hopped over to the machine. "You want to get a drink?" He obviously didn't understand English, but he pointed to the natural choice for a Buddhist monk: Mountain Dew. I looked around to make sure I wasn't in a Nike commercial. "Mountain Dew??" I pointlessly queried. I showed him the money slot, and put the dollar in. The machine took it with an enthusiastic whine. But, alas, as I reached for the buttons, it changed its mind and regurgitated the dollar with and angry growl. The Buddhist monk looked at me. I looked at the dollar. A bead of sweat popped out from under my hair onto my forehead. The pressure in my depths made wild theories fly through my head: "Maybe these monks forge all their money... why would a monk have a dollar bill, anyway? Do I really want to help a gang of ruthless Buddhist counterfeiters?" No. No I didn't. I handed him his dollar and backed away, shielding myself with a barrage of excuses: "I'm sorry, the machine must be broken... the dollar might be crinkled... " He only stared in bewilderment, but I had more pressing issues.
Afterwards, at the big map with the "YOU ARE HERE" star on it, I tried to explain everything to my wife. But she had seen no Buddhists. And besides, she said, no Buddhist monk would want Mountain Dew. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was just THE URGE playing tricks with my brain.*
-There was a Buddhist monk at a rest stop in PA
-I tried to help him buy a Mountain Dew because that's what he wanted, but the machine was broke
-Frankie saw him and believed me
I went to the bathroom BEFORE he asked me to help him