There's no getting around the topic of this blog posting. Clarence tried to dissuade me from writing it, but in the spirit of the Hanson Family Motto (no thought goes unspoken) I just had to. My husband came up with alternate titles, vaguely referencing the direness of the situation while skirting the facts. He liked 'Last Tango in Regina' or 'A Bridge Too Far.' I preferred to steal the title from an SNL skit about adult diapers. Here's how it all went down.
We were traveling from Calgary to Winnipeg, passing through the City of Regina. I had no inkling of what was about to occur, which, when I think about it, seems highly unfair. Mother nature has certain signals for this kind of thing, but there was no hint of what was to come. No twinges, no sound track from the movie 'JAWS.'' Either would have been appropriate.
Clarence and I were both tired and decided to stop at the Delta Hotel. Leaving our car in the front, we walked through the lobby to the desk. I opened my mouth to ask for a room when a strange rumbling sound caught my attention. Also the desk clerk's, who was quick to give me directions to a nearby bathroom. Did I hurry down the hall? Not really. It is impossible to rush while doing a partial plié in a backward leaning stance and cupping a hand over one's backside at the same time. It prevents any kind of quick movement. Of the walking variety, that is.
By the time I reached the attractive facility with its marble floors and counters, the damage was done. I will spare you the details, which, in the light of this blog entry, may surprise you. Suffice it to say that it was a good thing I was wearing long underwear.
Thank goodness I was the only occupant. There was no one to bother me except for Clarence who kept opening the door and hollering, "Are you done yet?" while trying to suppress cruel laughter. There is a certain helplessness in this kind of situation where more than one pair of hands is needed, yet, unless one is in a nursing home, not wanted.
My feelings of self pity should have been accompanied by high, sad violin music or at least a soft piano chord or two. Something Oscar worthy. Instead, I had only the company of my own bad language. Suffice to say that I managed to sneak up to the room we'd checked into without embarrassing myself further.
I have no explanation for this event except that things seem to happen to me while on road trips. My hope is that I can check this one off my list. I know I'm not alone in this situation. There are others out there who have done this particular Tango, maybe not in Regina, but certainly other places. I could use an understanding smile or kind word, so feel free to provide one when you see me. I'll be the one wearing three pairs of pants.