Toilet. That is all you are thinking.
That, and putting all your concentrated effort to keep your bladder from bursting.
The pain was real and somehow familiar, one that we curse a lot and pray to never have to experience ever again.
From stomach below, you are numb. Car ride was excruciating with all the bumps and turns and sudden stops. Coupled that with awesome Jakarta traffic and you have one female version of the Hulk.
You cross your legs. You change your seating position. All your muscles are tense and your brain just goes into overdrive mode. You try to sleep but no can do, it just adds to your agony as it has nothing but the pain down there to process your thoughts to.
You try chatting with your friends, complaining about your situation and even making fun of yourself to make you feel better. It somehow makes you feel worse, as you are aware that for the past minute, you only move one metre more.
How much longer will it take you to your destination?
You’ve been in a car ride for two hours now. You’ve gone from fighting to que sera, sera mode, calming yourself with wrong yoga techniques of taking deep breaths and counting from one to 100, which once upon a time your grandmother said this as the best way to distract yourself and you believed it.
Worse, your battery’s running low. The 3G connection comes and goes and you can’t even browse facebook leisurely. You grab a book from your bag and start reading it but by paragraph two, your head’s spinning.
Then you’re back to tending the pain down there and this time, you sit upright, hoping that this position will close the gate until your intended time to open it.
You look at the cars to your left and wonder how many people are in the same situation as yours.
It’s such an agony, and you vow to never consume any liquid before your journey nor in the middle of one, as it feels as if your brain lacks oxygen in every place but the one that register the pain.
Life is cruel, you think, and you wonder how much worse it will be if you were fifty years older.
Suddenly you sympathise with your grandmas and grandpas who have lower control of their bladder, and promise to next time be nicer to them when they want to go to the toilet for the fifth time in the past hour.
You see a slight of hope that the traffic’s going better, but it turns out to be a false one. Here we go, from lion’s den to the tiger’s.
Strength has gone from your body. You feel extremely weak and are tired for battling with your physiological needs for so long. Feel like passing out, blacking out, but it’s no use. All you can see is still these lots of cars and motorcycles and more cars and more motorcycles and angry drivers and inpatient passengers.
Repeat the process for another hour, and when you finally get the chance to empty your bladder, it feels like the truest, happiest moment in your 21 years of life.