Gold, Silver or Bronze?

All the coverage of the Olympic Trial’s has reminded me that, while I don’t think I have a world record time at ANYTHING still left in my body, like the amazing, kick-ass forty one year old swimmer has, I have done something uniquely suited to the Olympic world.  Something which, probably, not many other people have done.

If there is anything in the telling of this story which would land me in international, Olympic prison, then all events contained herein are alleged.  Is that a word?  Sounds like a word.  I’m hoping it’s a word that will stand up in court.

While on our fabled trip to Greece, you may read that story here, My mother’s daughter  I had a chance to bring some white trash redneck behavior to the beautiful city of Athens, Greece.  Cause ya knew I would.  It’s a little present that kinda travels with me wherever I go.  Like extra chicken nuggets. 

Our first night there, hubunit and I were exhausted from our long trip, but so excited to see everyone at the airport.  By everyone, I mean hub’s entire Greek based family.  Aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, neighbor’s children, some strange guy who was Greek so why not? and generally about two hundred others.

And one of the uncle’s is a taxi driver.  And he really, really wanted to take us for a drive to show us the sights of late night Athens.  Which is truly an AMAZING city.  So I finished the Coke which is always in my hand and said, ‘Heck yah, let’s roll.’  Which is a phrase that translates well from English into Greek.  Hardly any interpretation needed.

So the uncle, the special angel of a cousin who is so sadly no longer with us, hubunit and I all piled into the car and drove.  And drove.  And drove. 

And do you remember that Coke which I finished right before we hopped onto the crazy train?  Yeah.  That Coke was KNOCKING AT THE DOOR.  Wanting to come out an play.  But we couldn’t get the uncle to stop anywhere.  Evidently ’I'm going to wet myself in your back seat’ DOESN’T translate very well.

So after another thirty minutes of pretending that there was super glue on my whooha, I turned my miserable, jaundiced eyes out the window.  And thank the LORD we were passing by the Original Olympic Stadium.  And there were BUSHES in the front of it.

‘MAKE HIM STOP HERE, PUHLEEEEEASE.’  I whispered to hubunit.

The planet’s aligned and uncle had to drop us off in front while he and angel cousin went to park.  It was the dead of night, but for some g-damned reason, there were LIGHTS all over the front of the Olympic Stadium.  And the bushes were really trees which had been trimmed up to about shoulder height, so there was no protection there.

But the greek gods smiled down on me, the poor little rednecked girl.  Because there was only a short half wall between my whooha and a smidgen of privacy.  On the Original Olympic TRACK.  

So I hopped over that wall, pulled my pants down and some greek god said ‘Let there be a lake, right HERE’ faster than that old chick can swim a fifty meter race against a fifteen year old.

Hubunit was waxing poetic, saying something about the AMAZING HISTORY contained on this hallowed ground, until he turned around and saw my lake.  Which was still getting bigger by the way.  I thought my pee-er was broken.  My own personal amazing history-in-the-making shut him right the hell up.

He whipped back around and said ‘Uh, they’ve parked the car and are walking over here.’  Still peeing.  ‘They are just about here, Linda.  Seriously.  FINISH NOW.’  

Cause there was only a little half wall between me and his uncle and angel cousin, who had just met me and still thought I was normal.  And hubunit really, really wanted to keep it that way. 

But it’s an OVAL track, so there wasn’t a corner for me to hide in.  In fact, I think I was actually right in the middle of LANE FIVE.  Of the ORIGINAL OLYMPIC TRACK.  IN THE COUNTRY THAT STARTED THE OLYMPICS, in the year 1215.  Oh wait, that’s the year of the Magna Carta, thank you Jenny The Bloggess ’es husband Victor.  But a long time ago.  That’s all I’m sayin’.

I was pushing pee out so fast, I think I created a divit in the middle of the lake.  But, by some miracle, I managed to have my pants up just as hub’s uncle and cousin walked up.  Hubunit kindly focused their attention away from my lake and I ignored my wet shoes and all’s well that ends well.

Then a few years ago, when the last Olympic’s were held in Greece, I saw my lake on TV.  It was all dried up, and probably only I could tell it was there, but still. 

If they ever had peeing as an Olympic event, I’m pretty sure I could win.  Cause I’m Gold all the way, baby, that’s me.