Tag Archives: poop

melinda bradley

13 Jul

When I got my first job in the industry I am now in, I interviewed on Friday and was to start working on Monday. This caused a bit of a problem with my current job as a waitress at ******. Although I hated it with a burning fiery passion unlike anything I’d felt or have felt since, I had been a loyal employee there for over five years and didn’t want to screw them over. But, oh I hated it.

I put in my two weeks and gave away as many shifts as I could, but I remember having to come in for a couple evening shifts after I finished up on ***********.  I was exhausted and miserable. When my two weeks were finally up, I experienced my first real weekend since I was a sophomore in high school.  It also happened to be Cinco De Mayo.

A recently ex-co-worker, Melinda Bradley, and I decided to drive up to Santa Barbara and drink some wine and walk around. We didn’t really have a game plan, so we found ourselves stopping at the side of the road a lot whenever we found something interesting.

After a full day of mini-excursions, we were heading back home when Melinda saw this long, really steep road with an interesting sounding name. We turned onto it and began the ascent. We were immediately intrigued when at least two dozen antique cars passed us coming from the other direction. The road kept going, climbing higher and higher, and yet we were unable to find the source of the antique car parade. Eventually, Melinda looks over at me, her eyes a little wild with fear and says, “I have to poop.”

At this point we have been on this road for about ten minutes. Possibly fifteen. Before that, we had been on a long winding highway in the middle of nowhere. We were at the very least thirty minutes from anywhere with a toilet. I laughed. A lot.

But Melinda was not laughing. “Pull over,” she said. I did as I was told and turned the car off as Melinda frantically searched my back seat. She asked me if I have any paper towels or fast food napkins, which I, having anticipated our road trip, had just thrown away that morning. As Melinda’s desperation became more and more apparent, I offered her the only thing I had.

“Your (insert old place of employment here) apron?” Melinda asked, laughing despite her predicament.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I was never very good at metaphors anyway…”

Melinda scurried into the woods, and I stood guard at the edge of the road.  After a while, I called to her to see if she was okay.  She answered, sounding a little out of breath, “Yeah… just… give me a minute.”

As I stood by the side of the road, rocking back and forth on my heels, a lone biker rode down the road. Now let me remind you that this was a very steep road. And he was riding down. He should have just sped by, but this dude must have been riding his brakes because he was moving at a snail’s pace.  As he approached, he called out to me, “Everything alright, miss?”

“Yep,” I said, smothering a laugh. “Just enjoying this beautiful day.”

From behind me in the woods, Melinda called out, “What?”

“Do you need help with anything?” the man asked, seeming very concerned.

“Yep, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Your car working?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was tempted to ask him if his bike is working, but I fought the urge. The man finally pedaled away, apparently unconvinced that I wasn’t in some sort of distress. Shortly after, Melinda emerged from the woods, a relieved smile on her face, and my soiled ******* apron crumpled in her hands.

She looked at me, almost embarrassed, “What should I do with this…?”

I informed her that the apron was not coming into the car with us, so she left it by the side of the road, a little gift for our cyclist on his return trip. Now Melinda and I are friends IRL, so you may think it’s odd that I’ve included her in this blog, but I am afraid that after she reads this, we no longer will be. 🙂